


Orpheus Complex

by Volrosso



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Gym Class Heroes, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore, The Academy Is...
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:45:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8012428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volrosso/pseuds/Volrosso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of two friends, one demon, and the corpses of a thousand evil men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orpheus Complex

**Author's Note:**

> Also for Bandom Big Bang 2016!  
> I finished it!  
> 

 

 

It was so long ago that Travie can’t properly remember exactly  _what_ it was that he’d signed up for, but he's sure whatever it was didn’t involve tailing Gabriel Saporta into every single speakeasy in the entire city.

A party that isn't work-related can be enjoyable every once in a while. Now that they aren't running, the two of them spend a lot of time at parties, parties Travie has no particular love for. He doesn't much _like_ being surrounded by the rich people in the business, isn't a natural at interacting with them the way Gabe is. Travie's natural reaction is to just plaster on a smile and be as polite as he can, but sometimes that doesn't even do him any good.

So it isn't the parties themselves he hates, often it's the company. And the venue. Travie doesn't see the point in wandering out of their fold if they're looking to have a good time- Harlem has much better clubs than the one they've found themselves in tonight.

Maybe it's bigger, maybe it's fancier, but it's _boring_. All around them sit rich, fancy people dressed to the nines. The hall is dim and the music is dull, safe, not adventurous in the slightest. If Gabe had wanted Travie to have a good time he might've picked a better place.

The awe of the people around them isn't funny anymore. It's annoying. Travie's head is hazy from lack of sleep and the coffin varnish Gabe had forced into him before dragging Travie out for another night on the town. This is the  _third_ night in a row. The third party. He's crammed in at the table between a couple of yahoos they both sort of know, rowdy college boys who are entirely too drunk to be in a civil situation.

People keep looking over, and Travie can't figure out _why_ for the life of him. Maybe it's the mere fact that he's existing in the same space as them. Maybe they're looking straight through him at Gabe. Who's to say?

People always like Gabe, you can tell he's _somethin'_ before he even opens his mouth. He somehow doesn't look dead on his feet after three straight nights of partying, dressed in that suit he's only supposed to wear to work that makes him look fancy and oh so _so-phis-ti-cated_. Maybe he  _is_ charming, and maybe he _is_ admittedly good looking, but he's also a regular pain in the behind, and Travie doesn't get the allure.  

The white-gold girl in Gabe's lap had come sashaying over within the first five minutes, and they'd laughed and talked and outright ignored everyone else at the table. They're talking too quietly now, her head bent close to his as she runs her fingers through his curly hair, shoulders shaking with laughter at whatever it is he's saying. It's boring, and Travie's very nearly had enough.

The club's too hot and Travie is getting tired of watching people dancing, doesn't fancy trying to participate in it himself. Swing’s a little complicated at his height and this is definitely not his scene. Never will be. The college boys are boring and Gabe is preoccupied, so Travie figures he may as well check out before the petting starts.

"Where ya goin'," one of the college boys asks him as he stands, pushing past them with a little difficulty. He's drunk as a skunk and muffled by the cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and he probably doesn't really care.

"Leavin'," Travie grumbles, and the college boy grins and pats his elbow.

"S'been swell, pal."

Yeah, _right_. Gabe hasn't moved at all so Travie forgoes saying goodbye and heads straight out. The party is only starting to wind down now, the band shifting gracelessly into a soft, slow song as the crowd begins to thin out. The people rushing out of his way do nothing to lighten Travie's mood. His head is foggy and he's annoyed with Gabe, dreading the tongue lashing Mrs. Abel is going to give him in the morning for coming home at all hours like a hoodlum. If he gets kicked out of the place, it will be Gabe's fault.

Outside it's just begun to rain lightly, but even that has people scrambling away with coats over their heads towards shelter. The air is cold and clean, typical start-of-spring weather now that the snow's all gone.  

Travie's cigarettes are mysteriously absent. It's another thing he'll have to kill Gabe for later, he wasn't about to go back in there. He puts his coat on and pulls his collar up, following the hoard of people filing out the doors. Everyone is chattering away, something that fades into a background hum as he continues his way down the street. He's not entirely sure where he is, but that's not all that worrisome. There are lots of places to go when you have as many allies as he and Gabe do.

Most of the people around him drop off as he heads down the street, and then it's just Travie and the rain and the sounds of the city. The street is strangely quiet, even at this time of night, the peace interrupted only by the occasional car speeding by, splashing the sidewalk. Travie doesn't really think much about it, pressing his face into his collar against the cold.

By the time another soul comes into view, Travie is hopelessly lost. They seem to be in a rush, but maybe they'll stop long enough to help him if he asks? The figure phases in and out of view under the streetlights, speeding down the sidewalk. When they get closer, Travie can see that they're looking behind them as they run, and it doesn't make sense until the incoherent screaming starts. It's probably a signal that he should also run, but something's rooting him in place.

It seems to be a man who's approaching at a ridiculous speed. His yelling gets louder as he gets closer, but what he's trying to say doesn't get any clearer. The reason for his panic isn't clear either. He doesn't slow down as he approaches Travie, so Travie does the smart thing and ducks into the nearest alley. Instead of running straight past, the man scrambles into the alley, nearly falling face first into the mud.

Generally, Travie would lose his cool if a man in a suit as expensive as this one grabbed hold of him and started shaking, but his brain isn't processing things properly at the moment.  

"You gotta help me man, you _gotta_ ," he's babbling. "I didn't _know_ and now it's after me-"

"S'wrong," Travie asks. He has to look down at the short man who's got his arms in a vice grip. The poor guy's soaked through, thin hair plastered to his face, eyes wide like he's seen a ghost.

" _Please_ ," the man says, and everything gets even foggier. Travie blinks at him, trying to figure out what's happening, trying to figure out why the shadows are moving when he looks up again. They slither across the dirty brick walls as the man wails, writhing and squirming their way to the ground where they seem to close in and surge up in a solid form. The light from the mouth of the alley is blocked out by the silhouette and the man turns around to face the shadows.

There's a flash of red, a glint of silver. Travie steps back, away from the man, who falls to his knees, then on his side in the mud, choking on his last breaths. Travie's brain is trying to process what just happened but nothing about this makes sense. The man is there, dead, at his feet. There's a giant dark stain on the front of Travie's jacket, red specks on his glasses and warmth on his face that drips down his throat.   

When he looks up he's face to face with the mass of shadows that are already starting to dissipate, melting away and slithering back to their rightful places, leaving a _person_ in their wake. They're tall and willowy and dangerously pretty, dressed in a top hat and a fur cloak that must've cost a fortune. This is a scene straight out of Travie's nightmares, though he's never dreamt of a pretty person in a grey suit tearing his throat out before.

Fear is setting in now. He tastes blood that isn't his own, and somehow that makes everything so much worse.

“Are you afraid,” the other person asks- Travie assumed they're a man, going by the voice, though with hair like that he has to wonder. The person's voice is hypnotic, makes Travie feel like he's rooted to the spot.

He finds it in himself to shake his head, though his heart is pounding and his knees are maybe trembling a little. Travie's been in these situations before; this is just worse than every other time before. He usually has a gun, and isn’t facing something that looks like a marble statue come to life that has no weapon to speak of.

"Ah, well. Good. I wouldn't want you thinking badly of me," the scary man says conversationally, as if nothing had happened. As if he and Travie are old friends who are catching up, as if he doesn't have blood dripping off his face onto his fancy clothes. "I did give him the chance to admit to what he'd done, but he refused. Most do. I'm sure you know they type? Vermin of the city who think they can do as they please."

Travie wonders briefly if he could be lumped into that group, but he figures he would be dead already if he was. The man smiles sweetly at him as he removes his bloodstained gloves and drops them on the body at their feet.

When he opens his mouth to talk again, Travie catches a glimpse of his pink-stained double fangs and he's almost certain he's next. That's probably why he tries to run, though it's hard to tell because his body is in motion before his brain can catch up. It's about as useful as he expects because he trips and stumbles when the demon grabs him by the arm, wrenching him back into the shadows and spinning him around to look at him.

Travie resolves never to leave Gabe's side again. The blood of the dead man is running down the demon's pale throat in pink trails from the rain, caked in his dark hair. It's all Travie can focus on as the thing begins to talk again.   

“He was an evil man,” the demon says. Travie squeezes his eyes shut tight and prays that he'll go quick, that he won’t be bleeding out slowly when he dies. “Killed a girl. Did unspeakable things and disposed of her body so nobody would find out.”

He's not sure if he should respond, he's not sure what he'd say even if he could force his voice to work. His shivering only gets worse when the demon grips his chin, fingers icy cold, making him feel numb on contact. "I think I like you. I'd prefer to keep you around. You won't tell anybody about this, will you doll?"

Travie shakes his head, of course. There's no point, nobody would believe him. When he opens his eyes he's nearly nose to nose with the demon, looking right into his creepy red eyes. The road beyond them is getting foggy, rising up off the pavement and floating above their heads until the sky is blank. Travie is confused. He doesn't remember what just happened. He's not even really sure why he's here in the cold, or where he is.

The man in front of him steps back and a flurry of wind blows up from the ground, carrying with it a flock of ravens that are closer to Travie than any bird has any business being. He throws his arms up to shield his eyes from their wings and their beaks and their hellish claws.

He wakes up shivering in his chair at his desk, still dressed up pretty in his party clothes, shivering cold in the wet. Something happened though, he knows something happened, trying to recall exactly what as he scrubs his skin raw trying to get the blood off.

He doesn't sleep, and in the morning when Mrs. Abel asks how his night was he smiles and tells her it really wasn't nothing special. When Gabe starts chewing him out for leaving him at the club, Travie bites his tongue and takes it, because he'd rather be dead than start sounding like a lunatic talking about self-righteous demons killing people in the rain.

Any good poet would tell you that was something you’d write about instead.

 

 

_It's been a pretty excellent night, she was almost sad to cut it short. She'd left her place earlier, gone out with the girls. The club they ended up at was quite fashionable! The music was hot, everyone was dancing, nobody had a care in the world. It was just swell until she found herself alone, when her companions had wandered off with the johns on the dance floor. It was late enough that her makeup was smudged and her hair was wild- it was looking like her night would be spoiled._

_She hadn't expected to find herself a companion, not at that hour. He'd spotted her and his doe eyes went wide in the most endearing way possible. She almost looked past him- his velvet top hat is a little bit silly and his red jacket is painfully out of date- really, those coattails are simply_ ridiculous _\- but she just tells herself it's a costume and goes over anyhow._

_She doesn't get his name, but he's wonderful and giggly, maybe much too young for her but what's it matter? He looks about sixteen, that's not so bad. He's too cute to pass up. He ducks his head and covers his mouth when he smiles or talks, and it's endearing enough that she can overlook his silly lisp. He's closer to perfect than she was ever going to get in that joint anyhow._

_He's one hell of a dancer, too. That's important in a fella._

_Her boy's not that drunk, but he doesn't seem to mind that she is, just walks by her side with his arm through hers and nods at all the appropriate moments in her long winded story about her no good man back home. Even if he's not looking at her, she can tell he's listening, because he's sweet._

_"You got a girl?" When she asks his smile tightens a little bit. "Touchy subject?"_

_"I don't," he says, covering his mouth up and looking down at his shoes. "Not yet."_

_"So you got your eye on someone?"_

_There's that smile again. "You could say that."_

_She can't resist it, so she kisses his cheek, leaving a bright red mark. He doesn't say anything else so it’s quiet as they walk, peaceful. Her feet are slip-sliding everywhere, it’s a good thing she’s got him to keep her anchored._

_“Is there not a shorter way we could go,” he asks after a while. Maybe he's cold, his hand on her arm is practically freezing, no matter how hard she tries to warm him up. The wind is still cold enough to bite, she herself is starting to feel it through the silly red jacket he draped over her shoulders. “Do you know any shortcuts?”_

_“You’re eager, huh?” Young ones usually are. His doe eyes widen comically as he shakes his head, and she laughs. Sure. The city is theirs! She can take all the shortcuts she pleases now that she's got someone to protect her. He smiles again, and pulls her down what she hopes is the right way, a dirty alley she would’ve generally avoided._

_Her shoes are wrecked and her feet are full of blisters, a shortcut would do them both good. It’s awfully dark, and she tightens her grip on his arm. The sky is eerie and starless and the street lamps flicker in places before going out completely. Spooky. She doesn’t care, not when she has a fella with her._

_The boy is humming something familiar that she can’t quite place her finger on. He really does have a lovely voice, just another reason to keep him. She doesn’t feel afraid with him by her side, even if things are moving in the corners of her vision. It looks like the shadows on the wall are bending out of their shapes, writhing, reaching up in tendrils. She tries not to think about it, since he doesn't seem worried._

_Besides, who can tell what they're putting in moonshine nowadays?_

_“You okay, doll,” she asks him when he goes silent. Maybe he's scared of the dark, poor thing. “We’ll be there soon, don’t worry.”_

_“Caught up in my thoughts, sorry.”_

_“Do tell!”_

_“You ever done something bad?” He seems really worked up about this, whatever it is. She wants to kiss that sad puppy look off his face. She wants to kiss him, full stop. He hasn’t let her do that yet, the tease. “Like, really bad?”_

_“Not that I can think of.”_

_“I know you know that’s not the right answer,” he says, and he stops there, where he's standing, wrenching free of her grip. “You know you’re a killer.”_

_She’s not. Or, she’s sure she had nothing to do with what happened to that girl. That wasn’t her fault. If she’d gotten involved, if she’d helped in some way then none of her friends would have forgiven her. Nobody was supposed to know about that._

_She doesn’t get a chance to ask him what he's talking about, doesn’t get to yell at him, tell him where he can go. The boy isn’t so charming anymore, he's just plain_ creepy _, and she's so woozy and so angry that she doesn’t even notice anything._

_The boy grins at her, showing off his impressive fangs, and the darkness surges up behind her, engulfing her in only a moment. She doesn't even get a chance to scream._

_A moment later, the demon stands up, brushing his hair out of his face and tucking it in behind his ear before setting his hat straight. The job isn't so bad, it's the mess that really gets to him. "Six-hundred fifty-seven," he sighs, frowning at the bright red spots on his vest._

_His younger companion retrieves his coat from the bloodied body of their target, making a face at the wet fabric. “You can get blood outta clothes, can’t you master?”_

_“It’s red anyways,” the demon says, rubbing the wicked girl's blood from the corners of his mouth before removing his gloves and dropping them on her still form._

_His companion shrugs, and speeds up a little as his master starts to walk away. He only looks back once._

 

 

Travie hasn't been having a very good time as of late.

This time he wakes up just before the dandy demon of his nightmares rips his throat out with its vicious fangs, which is lucky. The past couple nights he was left to die there drowning in his own blood. This turn of events is a positive one.

His heart is racing. It takes him a moment to calm his breathing down, take in where he is. He hurts all over, but the pounding in his head is the worst. He's very comfortable otherwise, warm and tangled up in white sheets.

Now he remembers being out last night. He also remembers his breakdown when Gabe had pulled him into an alley with him on the way home, and the shaky conversation that had happened directly after as Travie leaned his face against Gabe's shoulder and repeated that he was fine over and over until he got his breathing back under control. Not his finest shining moment. Since he's here now, in Gabe's bed, hungover to hell.  

Gabe's still asleep, totally quiet for once in his damn life with his back to Travie. Generally, Travie would let him sleep, but he may not get another chance to get him back for all those late nights anytime soon.

“ _Gabriel_.” Travie sits up, shaking Gabe's shoulder. “Gabe. C’mon. Up. I’m hungry.”

That doesn’t work. Gabe just makes a grumbling noise, refusing to move. Travie flops back down, wincing when his head complains about it. He's going to get bored real quick like this, there was no way in hell he’d get back to sleep. So he picks an alternative method, moving closer and getting all snug up against Gabe before biting his shoulder hard as he dares.

That works, though it almost earns him an elbow to the face. Travie rolls over and out of the way while Gabe gets his complaining and flailing done.

“ _Bonjou_ ,” he says, when Gabe is finally still, arm draped over his eyes and his face scrunched up in pain. It’s way too bright in here, but if Travie has to deal with it, so does Gabe. It’s only fair. “We got work to do today.”

"Don't start with me, McCoy." Gabe grunts and gets up with some difficulty, shuffling out of the room with one of the blankets. Travie laughs at his resounding noises of irritation from the other room.

This thing they have isn't _really_ anything. Or maybe _sometimes_ it's something. Sometimes they come back here and sleep where they fall, fully clothed, and deal with the consequences of too much whiskey in the morning. But as someone who's generally very good at remembering the nonsense he gets into when he’s drunk, Travie can confirm that this wasn’t one of those times.

His clothes are missing and probably not in any state to be worn again, but it isn't an issue. He's got clothes at Gabe's house, just in case this happens. Maybe that's strange, but neither of them really thinks about it too much. They don't talk about it- or _any_ of this for that matter.

When he finally manages to get up and out of bed, Travie's reflection confirms that he looks just about as bad as he feels. He looks as if he's been up for days- which he has- and his hair is sticking up, which is unfortunate considering that Gabe doesn't have anything to remedy it in his possession.

And then there's the mark on his neck. Travie gives it a suspicious look as he gets his shirt on. Gabe's an idiot and he needs to be more careful with this stuff, or they're going to get questions. That's exactly the _last_ thing they need. Travie frowns at himself in the mirror and pulls his collar up, trying one last time to get his hair flat before giving up entirely and going into the other room.  

Breakfast is, for the most part, a mercifully quiet endeavour. They're too tired and too in pain to make a proper attempt at interaction. It’s a nice day out, despite the awful brightness and the pain in his head. Travie just wants to sit and read the paper and enjoy the silence but Gabe seems to have other plans.

“Newspapers are dramatic; don’t you think?” He hooks his chin over Travie’s shoulder, grinning like a cat. “Who died this time.”

Travie brushes him off, mumbling incoherently. Can’t Gabe tone it down for ten seconds? He’d just like to eat his breakfast in peace. As wonderful as it is hanging out with Gabe, he's just _not_ the sort of person you're meant to be tolerating every second of your day. Which Travie _has_ been, lately. As nice as it is not being alone to think about what happened to him, it's very tiring.

“Some girl, huh?” Gabe sits himself down at the table, snatching the paper off of Travie. “She was seeing the banker who was killed? Scandalous. You think the same person bumped 'em both off?”

This isn’t a conversation Travie wants to be having right now, considering he was _there_ when that banker was mercilessly slaughtered. He grunts in what could be interpreted as agreement. It's obvious that the demon was behind this too, he just doesn't want to talk about it.

“Oh, that’s grisly, huh?" Gabe's eyes go all wide. It would be funny if Travie was in a better mood. "Her throat was ripped open. Who'd do something like that?"

“I’m eating; do you mind?” Travie gives him a look and Gabe shrugged, getting up to help himself to whatever food there is.

“Yeah, hurry that up would you? We’ve got jobs, in case you forgot.”

“You shoulda thought of that before staying up all night partying,” Travie snaps, because his headache is slowly killing him and he's running entirely on coffee. If he goes crazy, it'll be entirely Gabe’s fault.  

“Dry up, McCoy. Don't be a stiff. Go fix your face and I’ll clear up for you.” Gabe kisses his cheek and starts on that, so how can Travie stay mad? Gabe even behaves himself until they're out of the house, travelling back to the part of town that is easily Travie's least favourite place to be. He'll probably just stay in the car as Gabe does his thing, he's only really useful in running situations anyhow.

Today, Nate is also on the job. Travie likes Nate, he's not flashy or loud the way Gabe is, and he has about as much disdain for things like this as Travie. He also likes that they're going to meet Nate elsewhere. Nobody else needs to know about all the extra time he and Gabe are spending together.

Nate's waiting outside the front of the big fancy building when they get there, easy to spot. He's short, looks mad most of the time, and scowls at people as they pass. Travie is glad to see him immediately. He doesn't go say hello though, he's busy looking around for allies as Nate and Gabe work their way through obligatory pre-meeting cigarettes.

"You look like hell," Nate tells Gabe, a typical greeting. "Suppose that's what happens when you stay out all night partying."

"Three nights, actually," Gabe says with a grin. "You jealous?"

"I'm well rested, is what I am." Nate blows smoke in Gabe's face. "Do you even know what we're doing today?"

"Peddling liquor, I assume."

"I guess. Apparently people are starting to get jumpy. You know, with the nonsense that's going on with the killings." Nate sounds nonchalant, but Travie is paying attention to the conversation from where he's leaning up against the wall, waiting for them to go in so he can get out of here.

"Saw it in the paper this morning."

Nate hums, nodding his agreement. He keeps quiet a moment as a woman walks by, then lowers his voice. "They got two of Iero's men the other day, you know? Tragic, isn't it?"

"And how," Gabe says faintly. The conversation screeches to a halt. Gabe is always especially sensitive to news about Frank Iero’s business, even if he really shouldn't care at all. Nate doesn't know anything about that. He probably doesn't care much for talking anyways.

Travie hums to himself, looking back over at Gabe every so often, just in case he’s stopped breathing. He can see Gabe’s mind working, trying to convince himself that the likelihood of it being someone he knows is slim to none. That won’t keep him from worrying though, Gabe can be a worrywart.  

Travie grabs Gabe’s arm as Nate heads on over to the building, leaning in. “You gonna be okay? Don’t overthink things.”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” Gabe shakes him off and Travie pats his arm, wishing he could offer a hug or something.

He can't, so he just grins and says “kill ‘em dead, then.”

“Sure,” Gabe mumbles as he heads in, and Travie just smiles, leaning back up against the wall. Their operation calls for a lot of patience on Travie’s part. It's a lot of waiting around and letting Gabe do the talking. He may be the voice of reason, but he's also the one people don't want in the room as things are happening. That's fine with him, it gives him more time to write. He hasn't had a lot of time since Gabe started dragging him around town every night.  

Writing's easier when he can think of something other than the tall man in the rain, too. Travie’s been seeing those red eyes in his nightmares and every gruesome headline brings the memory crashing back. Thinking about it makes him restless enough that he has to be doing something that isn't standing around bored. A stroll might do him good. The neighbourhood's nice anyways, clean enough and still quiet at this time of day. It's sunny too, which he should take advantage of. It's been raining all week and it'll probably keep up for the next little while.

His walk is nice, even if he has to clear off the street when packs of rowdy college boys come romping down the street, laughing loudly and shoving at each other. Droves of younger ladies go by too, he tries to avoid them as he follows the scent of whatever they're making in the bakery down the street. It's divine, whatever it is.

There's too many people in the bakery itself, so he walks a little further down to check out the little church he spotted on the way here. It's a nice looking little place, but there's not much going on, so he turns his attention to the sprawling graveyard out the back of it.  

It’s eerie, very quiet, and strangely serene. Travie doesn’t really make a habit of visiting graveyards, but it's nice every once in a while. This one's old, by the looks of it, most of the headstones weathered from the elements or cracked in places, most of the names impossible to read. Chipped statues litter the yard, unsettling and still.

The only other person around is a younger girl, kneeling by one of the headstones. She’s been out all night, by the looks of it, her hair is a mess, sticking up in blonde tufts. Her dress is torn in places, her makeup's smudged and her stockings are a mess. Some party, it seems.

Her shoes are beside her with her cloche hat, at the base of the big headstone above her, at the feet of an angel. It's a strangely unsettling statue. Travie's got the heebie-jeebies just looking at it.   

The girl stares at him when she notices his presence, and Travie is about to leave when she smiles. She's got a drawing pad in her lap, which is definitely a strange thing to bring to a party. And a graveyard, for that matter. It's got him curious.   

“Lovely day, isn’t it,” she says, surprising him a little. She doesn't seem to mind his being here. What a nice change.

“Odd choice of scenery though. What brings you here?” Travie leans against the angel trying to look casual. He straightens as soon as he realizes what that might look like, making her giggle.  

“It’s quiet.” She shrugs. “I like the quiet.”

“There’s quiet other places, sis. What you drawin’?”

The girl looked down bashfully, running her hands through her hair. “Oh, it’s just a character… I suppose you’d call him. A character from a silly story.”

“You can tell me about it if you want. Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all.” She scoots over and Travie sits himself down. “I’m Hayley, by the way.”  

“Travis,” he says, and it _was_ really nice until it wasn’t. He makes the mistake of looking at what she’s been drawing.

Hayley has a very strange drawing style, very sharp and full of thick, dark lines, but the figure is unmistakable. It's the demon, standing tall and grinning with a walking stick in his hand. She really captured how creepy his eyes were when he grinned like that.  

“What’s that?” Travie struggles to keep his voice calm. It's inconvenient, being so quick to lose his cool.

“An old story. Practically a legend back home,” she says, idly adding more lines to his hair. “There’s a monster terrorizing a village, you dig? Keeps stealing people and leaving them cold and dead in the woods. They’re getting real tired of it. So they send one of their warriors to bump it off. You know, lop its head off. Nobody knew how to kill the bugger.”

“Sure,” Travie says, forcing a smile when she looks over.

“So, they send in a warrior, and she’s a looker, the monster sees her and it falls in love, which nobody thought it could do. Funny how that works.” She pauses, probably having lost her train of thought. “Right, yeah, it fell in love and stole the warrior away. But not really. The warrior actually loved the thing back. Gross, right? The village was so scared they took care of her the only way they knew how.”

“What's that mean?”

"They took her for a ride, if you get what I'm saying." The girl nods solemnly. “Loverboy didn’t like that. It took the village out in a fit of rage and started on a quest- it had never come across a way to bring people back from the dead without making them a monster too, but it was determined to find one. He comes across a demon, after decades of searching, a demon who lives in a mountain. Promises the monster her life if he brings back the souls of a thousand evil men.”

The implications are terrifying. Travie knows realistically that none of this makes any sense at all, and that he’s being paranoid, but he’s shaken all the same. He's rather not have a fit in front of a teenaged girl he doesn't even know, however, so he's going to take his leave before this gets any worse.

“Weird story, no?” Hayley is grinning up at him.

“Morbid.” Travie gets up, dusting his trousers off. His hands are shaking a little already. “It’s been swell, but my friend’s prob’ly done by now so I-”

“You’ve seen it; I know you have.” Hayley considers him a moment more before going back to her drawings. “You can always tell. It’s in your eyes.”

“I got no idea what you’re talkin' about and I don’t really wanna know,” Travie says, backing up. His chest feels tight, it can only get worse from here. “But good day.”

“Seeya.” Hayley smiles at her paper. “Feel free to come by again if you wanna know what’s going on in this city. Just leave something here and come back the next day, i'll be here.”

Travie doesn’t respond, he gets out of there fast as he can and stands dutifully outside Gabe's building for the rest of the time.

It takes longer than usual. Which sucks because the only other guy loitering around outside is a total stiff who only wants to talk about the war- which is where, Travie figures, he got that unsavory scar on his face. But he’s nice, and polite, and his ceaseless chattering helps clear Travie’s head.

The trip is a success though. Gabe looks exhausted when he gets back out, probably just because of the news about Iero’s boys that is weighing heavy on him.

Travie knows he ought to go home and sleep or process everything he heard today. Gabe could use some pick-me-up, though. If they can put his mind at ease while they’re at it, all the better.  

Nate sighs and adjusts his tie. “I hate working with those people. Fuckin’ stiffs, all of them.”

“Well it’s all over now, you can relax.” Travie pats Gabe’s back, pushing him towards the car. “We oughta go and celebrate, in fact.”

“When are you not out celebrating?”  

“Stop being jealous. Go home. Tell your wife I miss her,” Gabe says, which earns him a punch in the arm from Nate. Travie’s starting to think he should just leave Gabe to his own devices. He probably won’t die if they don’t go out tonight, right? When they get in the car though, Gabe's shoulders slump anew.

“Would you relax? If Mikey fuckin’ Way kicked the bucket they’d want you at the funeral, don’t you think?” Travie gives him a look every once in a while as they go.

Gabe doesn’t say anything, but he nods, so Travie marks it as a victory. He’s sort of okay at getting Gabe to stop worrying about things. Nowhere near as good as Victoria, who can spell out every factor of a situation that points to it having a positive outcome. Travie’s method is sticking to one mantra and hammering it home.

Travie’s feeling sort of uncertain about this whole situation. Maybe he’s overthinking it too, but usually they run into Iero’s men all the time. In the streets, in clubs, at whatever stupid fancy party they’ve been forced to. They’ve seen a lot of them around, sure, but none they know personally. Seeing Mikey or his brother in the street is nearly a bi-weekly occurrence. No news from that front in weeks, though.  

If you want to find either of the Ways, however, it’s relatively easy. They’re almost always at the club, if they’re not working. When they are, someone they know is at the club, available to tell you where they are if you ask the right questions.    

The club is a swanky little joint that Gabe has always liked, strictly because it’s one of the only places he’s technically not allowed into. Another thing that makes Gabe  _Gabe_ though, is that he can use almost everything to his advantage.

The fact that he can get himself through the doors of the _House of Wolves_ at all is a feat in itself. It's something that Travie had admired before he started babysitting Gabe. People like Gabe and Mikey always get what they want. Mikey is supernaturally likeable and Gabe is charming in a way nobody can resist. They make one hell of a pair, truly.

Thinking about it makes Travie a little irritated. He can’t say why.  

Travie never went to the club to see Mikey Way. Most of his friends work there. Musicians, all of them. Travie had always said he’d be a musician before the poetry thing seized his life. His friends, however, were born for it. Best damn jazz musicians anywhere around. And sometimes they let Travie play along, sometimes integrate his words into their songs.

Gabe likes going there because Mikey’s there. Gabe likes _Mikey_.

Travie hopes they can see either one of the Ways somewhere in here, so he can put Gabe’s mind at ease and spend the rest of the night hanging around with Disashi or Matt. Hopefully both. He hasn’t seen them in a good long while.  

Someone unfamiliar is on the lookout today, a short, curly haired individual. He doesn’t give them any trouble, so maybe Mikey’s already filled him in on what enemies he should overlook.

Travie feels more at ease as soon as he’s through the doors, the lights are down lower and the band is playing- _good_ music, upbeat and interesting. It's such a relief that he already feels less tired, and he doesn’t even have a drink in him yet. He forgets that he has Gabe to babysit at the moment and immediately starts looking for people he knows. Most of them are up on the stage and he’ll just have to talk to them later.

There are a lot of unfamiliar faces in the crowd, which is unusual, when you know everyone. It doesn’t matter, because he spots Mikey Way, loitering in the back like a modern day Adonis and dressed to the nines. Mikey Way is especially irritating because he somehow manages to look good despite his glasses and his timid qualities. He's tall and thin and quietly awkward in a way that girls- and Gabe- seem to love for some reason.

Right beside him is his greasy looking brother, watching the crowd with sleepy-eyed interest.

When Travie points them out, Gabe’s face lights up. A load has been lifted. It’s nice to see, but Travie gets an ugly feeling too, in his chest. Nothing he can’t ignore.  

He follows Gabe to the back so he can talk to Gerard. Mikey’s brother is sort of strange and secluded, but Travie thinks he’s pretty interesting, the way someone in a sideshow might be interesting. He mumbles when he talks and pauses frequently, chasing after some other thought mid conversation. An artist through and through.      

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Gerard says, and Mikey smiles.

He’s alive, sure, but he looks like death, really, Travie’s not entirely sure how he’s still standing. Gabe doesn’t make any move to touch him or anything, just stands there grinning. Mikey must get it. They stand there smiling, like they’re sharing a joke. Travie looks away pointedly.  

“Thought you were dead or something, Saporta,” he says, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.  

“And here I am.” Gabe sweeps his arms out. This is usually when the flirting starts, and Travie would like to be far far away from that, if he can help it. Gabe gets goofier around Mikey Way than he does around any of the girls he’s been with in the past while, so much that it’s obnoxious. But maybe that’s what it’s like having an old flame you can stand to look at. Travie doesn’t get it, and he doesn’t want to.

Gerard must be sympathetic because he tilts his head a little, towards the back. That usually means he can get in without getting kicked out. So he pats Gabe on the arm and heads on over. Gabe will probably keep out of trouble if Mikey’s with him.

He nearly falls asleep right there at the back, on the ratty couch nobody ever uses because there’s always someone else passed out drunk occupying that space. He nods off at some point, wakes up with Disashi hanging over him, grinning hugely and lit up by the bright cluster of mirrors the show girls are using behind him. “Long time no see, huh?”

“Glad to see you didn’t fuckin’ die in that time.” Travie sits up straight as Disashi slings an arm around his shoulder. He's still sober so he actually _does_ mind the heat and the sweat, and he also minds his face in the lit up mirror behind them. He really does look like death right now, which is unfortunate because at some point a lot of girls come in here in their flashy, barely there outfits. This has gotten a little embarrassing. He tries to keep his focus on Disashi. “ _Ou byen?_ How you been?”

“Man, it’s been weird around here. Lots of new guys. Some of them’s okay.” He emphasizes this by waving his hand in the air. “S’not my business who Iero lets in but those fancy guys freak me out a little. Not sure why.”

“’Cause you a pansy.”

“Call me what you want, nancy boy. We missed you.”

“I’m busy, what can I say?” He does feel bad. Being here more sounds preferable to being dragged everywhere by Gabe. His friends don't keep him up all hours, they know he actually has to be _awake_ to write anything.   

“Well you should find time.” Disashi gets up, loosening his bow tie. “Come on. I don’t wanna talk business right now. We’ll go do stuff.”

Staying in this room of half-interested girls seems preferable, but okay. Most of them were awful anyways. They giggle among themselves as the two clear out. Travie thinks for a moment that he should probably go find Gabe but Gabe will be drunk, no doubt. And also with Mikey. That’s a bad combination.

Instead, he sticks to Disashi’s side, listens to him talk about the club, the new patrons, the endless shenanigans they all get into. Travie sincerely wished he’d picked up an instrument sometimes so he could’ve stuck around. Who knows, there’s always time for a career change.

It seems now that they’ve managed to pack even more people into the club in the hour or two that they were in, things are in full swing and Travie is nearly swept up in the chaos on the dance floor. Disashi links their arms together and sweeps him over to a table so he doesn’t get lost in the fray. He can see where Gabe is from here, surrounded by girls, probably telling a story. Mikey’s slipped off somewhere. It’s noisy and dizzying, but once Travie has a few drinks in him he’s fine to relax.

He doesn’t get much of a chance to let go, he doesn’t get a lot of time to do much at all. He’s swept up onto the dance floor before long, the lights blurring a little around the edges as he really starts to get into it. The music’s picking up and he probably looks awful doing what he’s doing but that’s okay, he’s having a blast.

Someone grabs him by the arm, spinning him around, and maybe he’s giggling but it doesn’t matter. They’re having a good time. The fella pulls Travie right up against him, and only then do the warning bells go off.

He’s nearly nose to nose with the _demon_. He was harder to identify this time, he’s toned down his outfit and his eyes are sort of normal looking, if looking into the void could be considered something normal. The only indication that he’s something that crawled right up through the cracks of hell is the cold press of his hands against Travie’s feverish skin.

Fuck. He can’t breathe. The demon smiles a little, and it’s totally unnerving but also totally charming. Travie is incredibly conflicted.

“Have we met?” The music’s slow, suddenly, and Travie is stumbling over his own two feet. Not that he's usually any better at dancing than this, but fear makes him even worse. “You seem familiar. I’m sure I’d remember a face like yours.”

“You killed someone,” Travie says before he can really consider if that’s a good idea. The demon’s eyes light up with recognition.

“I thought we agreed to never speak of that again?”

“ _Ale nan lanfè_. You don’t belong here.” He’s got less of a chance of dying here, right? The demon just laughs.

It doesn’t have the desired effect. The demon grins- at least his teeth look relatively normal now. “I like you. What’s your name?”

“Fuck if you think I’m gonna get involved with a killer.” Travie manages to break away. He needs to find Gabe, or at least someone he knows. He needs to know what Iero thinks he’s playing at, letting killer demons into his club. His _friends_ could get hurt. That’s so fucking irresponsible. When he walks away the demon doesn’t come after him.

He doesn’t wait for Gabe either. He walks back with Disashi, jumping every time a shadow moves. He’s too twitchy to go back to his, so he just crashes on Sashi’s couch and actually sleeps for once. He’s so far gone that dreams of the demon don’t come.

 

 

Gabe is generally a much better friend than this.

He caught Travie leaving as he entertained the girls who'd come over, scrambling out of the club with Disashi in tow. Something had him seriously spooked, but with Travie you could never really tell what that might be. He's too superstitious, has a bad habit of freaking out over things nobody needs to bother themselves with. And when he's drunk he's even _more_ unpredictable. Lately it's been a lot worse, he's even mumbling things in his sleep. Any time Gabe asks about it he's told not to worry, which does nothing to prevent him from worrying.

Usually he'd run out after Travie, but tonight he's being selfish. He hasn't seen Mikey in weeks, and he hasn't had a chance to catch up with him even. He sticks around a little after the girls have gone off, giggling, but even now it's getting him nowhere. Mikey is practically hacking up a lung every other word when Gabe finally gets back to him, seriously, the kid is sick as a dog. He shouldn’t be let out. But Mikey does what he wants, no matter how much people advise against it. It's gotten him far. Maybe it's why Iero likes him so much. Because Iero really does like him. _Really_.

"Look- are you sure you're okay?" Gabe has had too many bad experiences with this stuff to just let it slide. Mikey waves his hand impatiently, working his way through a fresh fit of coughing. "I'm serious..."

"M'fine, Saporta." Mikey manages a smile, pushing his glasses back up his face. "Everyone keeps acting like I'm dying."

Gabe winces. The use of the D-word in front of Mikey has been discouraged. It's that much worse when he's the one using it. He's so frail, rubbing his arms to keep warm, shaking slightly. His health's always been an issue, it was one of the things that inevitably drove them apart. "Hey," he says softly, wrapping an arm around Mikey's shoulders. "Why don't you go take a rest."

"I'm not gonna go sleep some more, I've been sleeping all day."

"Then that's what you need to do! Don't be stubborn now, come on." He helps Mikey up to his feet. "Focus on getting better, and then you can take me dancing. Y'know. For old time's sake."

"Not because you're still in love with me?" Mikey half smiles, but he doesn't look at Gabe.

"Love? I don't know the meaning of the word."

That makes Mikey laugh, which makes him cough. Gabe keeps feeling worse and worse about this whole situation. He helps Mikey through the doors to his room in the other building.

With Mikey gone and Travie out of order, Gabe has to consider his options. He could go back and talk to the girls, they always like him well enough. He could leave. He could get cozy with some of Travie’s friends, but he has a creeping suspicion he’s gotten into their bad books somehow. Maybe Travie complains about him behind his back? Gabe wouldn't blame him.

What he ends up doing is standing out the back with Gerard Way, who's sober, but not enough of a wet blanket to pass up a cigarette. It's quiet out here, despite the muffled sound of the music inside. The atmosphere is grave, and Gabe doesn't really like it.

They’ve never really been friends, Gabe and Gerard. Gabe has always been someone to tolerate because Mikey likes him, and Gerard would always be the brother Gabe tried too hard to impress.

Gerard looks tired. Or, more tired than usual. Maybe he's sick too. “You been busy?”

“You know better than to ask me about business, Gee.” Gabe's struggling to light his cigarette. Gerard sighs and gives him a hand. “You’re gonna get me shot. You're gonna get _you_ shot.”

“You’d come back to haunt us probably.” Gerard hunches over, too-long hair falling into his eyes. He's obviously not happy. Gabe wonders if it's something he did, maybe something he’d said to Mikey? They stand there for a while while Gabe worries before Gerard finds his words. “Can I be honest with you, Gabriel?”

“You don’t have to call me Gabriel.”

“Gabe. He’s not getting any better.” Gerard runs his free hand through his hair. Is he frustrated or anxious? Maybe both. “He’s not.”

“He’s been sick before, Gerard.” Sure that sent Gabe’s mind dark places. Being with Mikey hadn’t been a walk in the park. Gabe had spent endless hours beside his bed, worrying, always worrying. That isn’t about to stop. He’s going to keep worrying and worrying.

If Gerard is admitting that it's bad, things have to be absolutely _dismal_. Gerard has never been anything but positive when it comes to Mikey’s health.   

“It’s not getting better this time. And it probably won't.”

They can talk about options til they're blue in the face, Gabe gets that tone of finality and he's nowhere near drunk enough to process it like an adult. The anxiety that's been gnawing at him all day flares right back up again, making his chest ache. What would he do without Mikey? What would _Gerard_ do?  

“It’ll be okay,” he says, and it's pointless really, something to fill the silence. Gerard doesn’t believe it; Gabe doesn’t believe it. It's _not_ going to be okay.

They lapse back into silence. Gerard keeps running his fingers through his hair distractedly and Gabe tries to think of things that aren’t problems to talk about. He should have gone with Travie.

While he's putting together a lengthy apology to Travie in his head, someone pokes their head out the back door, a kid who looks about twelve who steps out, ducking his head and covering his mouth shyly with a hand as he talks. “Sir, Mr. Beckett wants to talk to you.”

Must be one of those new wahoos Iero brought in for no good reason. Gabe doesn’t miss the way Gerard’s eyes light up there for a moment. Maybe he's got _a thing_ with Mr. Beckett.

“Thank you Brendon,” he manages, and the kid nods and hurries back in. “New kid,” Gerard offers as an explanation as he rushes to put himself back together. Mr. Beckett must be one of Iero’s super important rich friends. Whatever. Gabe can find his own fun.

“I’ll see you later then,” Gabe says, fully aware that this is the night coming to a close. He doesn’t feel any better than he did before he came. If anything, things are even worse now. But whatever, he’ll figure something out. He always does.

 

 

_Things are getting pretty hectic, and William is having trouble keeping to his schedule. There's just too many things that need his attention now. Coming to this city had been a good idea at the beginning, but he'd gotten swallowed up in the politics and now he has more obligations than he knows what to do with. He doesn't have that much time to go chasing sinners across the city, which is an issue, since that's the whole reason he's here._

_He's got Brendon, of course. That's what he's for. And Sisky, and the Butcher. He keeps Carden by his side, at his disposal, but the other ones round all the wicked people they can find and drop them right at William's feet. That's the inconvenient bit. William has to be the one that kills them, or it doesn't count. If it's not him then it's for nothing._

_The first one of the evening proved to be very good at running away, or so Brendon says. He's not incompetent, but he's young, and sometimes he gets caught up in the chase and forgets that he's got time constraints. William needs to start sending Sisky out with him or something, it's been happening more and more. What's important though, is that he's got his target for the night now, and now William has more time to deal with Way the younger._

_This whole situation is so awful. The kid is sick. Really sick. He's not going to get better, it doesn't take an idiot to see that. Really, William is surprised he's lasted this long. The others come and go but William spends most of his time at Michael's bedside, sometimes asleep, sometimes awake. The poor boy doesn't have the strength to get out of bed most of the time, and even just walking out into the main hall exhausts him now. He doesn't have long._

_In William's professional opinion, they should just put the poor kid out of his misery and leave it at that. Humans die all the time, people get over it. Sometimes they don't, but in most circumstances everyone else will survive. Mikey seems kind, from the conversations William has managed to have with him when he's feeling well enough to speak. He seems like someone with a conscience and morals and other pesky things like that that would make him object to the lifestyle going through with this would force him into. And also, William has never done this with a human being who wasn't aware of what they were getting themselves into before. Mikey doesn't know what his friends and family have asked William to do if things get worse, and that's kind of inconsiderate, far as William is concerned._

_"I really think you ought to consider the fact that this isn't something I take lightly," William tells Gerard when he comes to visit Mikey, who got worn out a lot faster than usual tonight by just sitting and talking with a friend. "I need you to really think about this."_

_"I've thought about it," Gerard says, for maybe the millionth time. This is something he's been adamant about since they met, soon as Iero told him exactly why William was here. "And I'm not going to lose him."_

_William is an insurance plan. He knows this, and he doesn't like it. This is against his morals too. But they need to stay on Iero's good side to keep going with their mission and Iero has a weird attachment to this kid that's definitely not smart for a man of his station to be having._

_William side-eyes Gerard, who's proved to be an utter nuisance since the beginning of this endeavour. He's always there, hanging over William's shoulder any time he's in the room, like something awful might happen to Mikey if he's not around to supervise. William has Brendon distract him sometimes, just so he has room to breathe._

_Today's visit goes exactly as all the others have. Yes, Mikey is still sick. Yes, Gerard wants to go through with it if anything should happen. Not that it will, because they're all still clinging to the hope that he'll get better. But should anything happen, they want William to be there. It drags on and on until William is freed from the bedside._

_Brendon is waiting out the back with the target of the day, holding him there by his collar as he gets out the last of his grovelling and crying. He’s apologizing over and over which is absolutely useless, but they all do that. William is already annoyed after answering hundreds of questions that Gerard seemed to have about bringing people back from the dead, so he can just get this over and done with._

_Breaking the man's neck is easy, William just cracks it hard to the side and lets him drop as he tries to figure out what else to do._

 

 

"You think James's been actin' weird for a while now?" Travie's sort of just talking for the sake of talking now. He doesn't want to be here at all, he's scoping out exits through the workers who are coming and going, brushing past them like they're nothing. Very telling about what kind of ship they're running here, Travie's never liked this client in particular. He's sure nobody really does. Anyone who's ever worked with Iero, past or present, always has a way of driving people up the wall.

"Which James?" Gabe is watching the workers come and go, fascinated by the process still, after all this time. He saw a lot more of this when he and Travie were rum-runners, which Travie found to be more enjoyable than anything he's doing now that they're further up the ladder. He misses the sea and he misses feeling like the's actually a _part_ of something, but there's nothing to be done now.

This part of the business, in particular, isn't all that glamorous. It's all mixing alcohol and slapping a label on it- nothing fancy. In Bryar's operation they don't make their own, they import everything and rebrand it. Watching people do that is exactly as dull as it sounds. Travie hopes Bryar won't be too long.

"The one you don't care for."

"Why would I care about what that mick's getting up to?" Well, he doesn't have to. Gabe isn't dealing with him on a weekly basis like Travie is. And James has been acting super sketchy lately, jumpy like a rabbit and avoiding straightforward questions. He's gotten very religious since last week as well, which is especially strange, if you'd heard the guy talk for more than ten minutes.

"Fair enough."

"Moving on, you think this guy will be any trouble? He seems like every other stiff Iero has at his possession." People like Bryar are almost always trouble, Travie’s not even really sure why they were sent here in the first place. Iero hates Bryar a lot more than he hates anyone on Gabe’s side. Bryar's playing a risky game, asking them to come here. Then again, he’s probably got people everywhere. Smart individuals always do.

“I should hope not.” People like Bryar seem to have a habit of popping up at the most inconvenient times, as well. He’s a tall, dour looking fella that would probably be more intimidating if Travie and Gabe weren’t some of the tallest people around here. Through and through, he seems like the kind of person Travie actively avoids at all costs. 

Gabe just pastes on his best fake smile.

“My associate has a questionable sense of humour, Mr. Bryar,” Travie manages, hoping that speaking up doesn't mean he has to suddenly take charge and deal with the rest of this meeting.

Bryar just huffs a laugh and sizes Travie up. “I’m not here to talk, I’ll show you around and you can leave.”

Well, that's preferable to forcing pleasantries. If the boss doesn’t hear about this tiny detail, the day will actually be a lot better.

Bryar leads them around, and Travie knows they should be paying attention, but his mind is elsewhere and Gabe is obviously out of it as well. They walk past rows and rows of people bottling whiskey up, mixing it with god-knows-what and slapping on a different label.

“This definitely seems like an Iero operation,” Gabe mumbles.

“Iero’s operations are a lot sloppier than this lately, I can assure you of that,” Bryar says dryly, because he's got the ears of a hawk apparently. “Not that it's any of my concern, really, I can take care of myself. But he's been missing lately."

"You don't say?" Gabe is feigning interest in watching what people are doing, trying his best to look like a professional who knows what should be going on at distilleries. He doesn't want to talk about this.

"Busy taking care of his new recruits, is my guess."

“What do you mean by that?” Travie’s interest is piqued. “You know somethin’ about them?”

“I know they come from out of town.” Bryar picks up a bottle from a bench. “Chicago ways, I was told. Showed up in the middle of the night. I was there."

"Are they in the business too?" Gabe's interest is more business-oriented than anything. Travie _needs_ to know this stuff. 

Bryar laughs. It's a vaguely unsettling sound coming from someone like him. "I couldn't tell you. I've heard some interesting stories, though."

"Like what?"

Gabe laughs and puts an arm around Travie's shoulder, walking him along. It's a warning. He needs to stop being so superstitious. "Travis. We really _must_ stop talking about irrelevant matters while we're on the job, don't you think?"

"I don't mind," Bryar says. "It's a freakshow over there. I'm glad someone's in agreement."

"The long haired one's real creepy," Travie says slowly, trying to figure out a way to navigate this conversation without sounding like a crazy person.

"Everyone says he's some sort of witch doctor. I'm sure you've seen worse."

Apparently he won't have to. Gabe is giving him a look that says to just stop talking but this isn't going to fly. "Sorry?"

Bob isn't even looking at him. "Your accent. It's your people who came up with all that nonsense anyways, right? All that hoodoo bull? Animal sacrifices and raising the dead and whatnot?"

" _My_ people-"

"Wow!" Gabe tightens his grip so he has Travie in what could easily be classified as a headlock. Travie's about to punch him too. Bryar doesn't seem concerned in the slightest, just keeps walking, led into the speakeasy on the other side. "Isn't this fun?" 

Travie forces a laugh and plaster his smile back on. He'll be polite. He has to be. He stares down at the table as Gabe and Bryar talk about Iero and business. They're surrounded by fashionable people who have come in for their morning brandy before they head off to work, or whatever social situation they have to be in. His thoughts wander, inevitably, back to the demon, and that's where they stay. He doesn't pick up on any of the conversation, just that Gabe's got his hand on his knee under the table, squeezing it reassuringly when he thinks Travie's too close to frowning. It's a warning not to lose face in front of Bryar, but it's also reassuring, and he manages to keep from breaking down until he's in the comfort of his own home, alone.

Going back to see that girl in the graveyard is looking better and better.  

 

 

 _W_ _hen William finally has the opportunity to go out and hunt on his own, he picks a target that's difficult without really knowing. The humans have started to catch on to what's happening around here, who exactly it is that's being picked off._

_They're scared. And they have a right to be, William is back on his schedule. He's creeping closer to the amount of souls needs, so this can all end. His life can go back to normal- or at least as normal as it's ever been. Which isn't much, but now he can exist without being so miserable all the time._

_He knows very well that he could pick another target, one that doesn't know he's coming, one that doesn't know how to stay out of sight. Who doesn't run. But William has been cooped up in that silly room for far too long to pass up this opportunity. He wants to get out and stretch his legs._

_William leaves Brendon back at the_ House of Wolves _, tells him to wait. He doesn't have to go out tonight. They've got to be more careful now that people calling themselves "vampire hunters" are coming out of the woodwork. They're no threat to him, as he is now, but they might be dangerous to Brendon especially._

_"I want you to stay here," he says, one hand on Brendon's shoulder, the other tilting his chin up so Brendon's looking at him. "If anything should happen, send Carden to get me."_

_"Are you sure? I can come with you, it's not a problem..." He's never been eager before. William is suspicious, and Brendon must realize it because his eyes widen and he looks away quickly. "I mean, yes, master."_

_He's hiding something. William can find out what it is at a later date._

_William has work to do._

_He only has to scout for a little while, standing up on the rooftop of a beaten up building. Vision is different up here, in the dark everything is made up of shadows, and the life forms passing by down below him are specks of light travelling down the grid of the street. They vary in colour, from person to person. Most are bright white lights, pulsing with light. The good ones. There are other colours, reds and violets and blues. He never really understood the significance of those colours, doesn't care to unlock all the complexities of the human soul when he knows what colour he should be focused on._

_The dark grey light pops onto his radar from down the street, and that's where he needs to be. William licks his lips, looking around him before he hops down from the fire escape, landing heavily on his feet and alerting the target of his presence._

_It's intentional. William lets his target go the first time, watches him flee. William never actually feels like hunting until he's worked himself up into that violent state- something that generally requires the blood of a killer._

_William is very meek on his own, too timid to go through with doing anything like this, but with a little help he can be the demon people expect him to be. Sometimes he just needs to think hard enough about his objective, of how far he's come and how far he needs to go. Sometimes that's enough to spur him on. Other times he needs to draw blood before he attacks, and that's easy enough._

_The first time he attacks is just a warning, all he needs is a drop of blood, one he gets when his sharp nails rip through the target's clothes, through his skin as he screams and he runs. William watches him go, nothing but a dim grey light that disappears around the corner. No matter. William licks the blood off of his fingers before he puts his gloves on again. It's no matter to him._

_The chase is fun, once the targets blood starts kicking him into gear. It feels good to be back out in the air, not confined in such restrictive clothing with humans breathing down his neck. William likes making full use of his new powers, reducing himself to the shadows and racing along the walls. He rushes on, closer and closer, relishing the look of terror on the man's face as he looks back. He's cornered himself without realizing, and watching him struggle to get out makes everything better._

_William rematerializes in front of him, shaking shadows off his clothes, deaf to the pleading and grovelling of the poor sap in front of him. If he wanted to be left alone, he wouldn't have done what he did. William doesn't prolong this, as he's got other people to hit tonight and the man's taken up enough of his time as it is. He grabs hold of the man and spins him as he might if they were dancing, turning him around and sinking his fangs into the man's throat when he dips him, cutting his screams short._

_Maybe he makes a mess, but William doesn't care. He leaves the target's body where it drops, not bothering to wipe the blood off his face as he bounds away to his next hit._

 

 

“I want to go see Mikey again,” Gabe says, ignoring Travie’s skeptical look. Tomorrow's a day off anyways, Travie has no right to complain. Gabe will have him home before the sun comes up.

Travie's still worried for some reason. Sure, the news about James had been slightly disturbing- nobody deserved to die like that, even if they _were_ dreadfully annoying like James had been. He’d been the quiet sort, weird, caught up in some trouble with the law at some point but as most of them had. Travie had known him better, though it would never not be weird seeing someone you knew dismembered on the cover of the daily news.

Something about his death has rattled Travie in a whole new way. There's obviously something he knows- or thinks he knows- that Gabe isn’t getting, but Gabe won't push. James' death was probably caused by some other gang's men getting bored. The new groups are pretty unpredictable.

Thinking about it, it could very well have been one of Iero's men, if this was a mob killing. If it was, Gabe probably isn't safe showing up at their doorstep dressed up for his own funeral. But he needs to relax and Travie probably wants to see his actual friends who aren’t Gabe, even if he won’t admit it. He can benefit from Gabe being selfish, right?

They don’t talk about it on the way there. Gabe lets Travie focus on the road, lets him talk about his poetry. That stuff always calms him down for some reason, even though it seems boring and complicated and not relaxing in the slightest. Gabe has never gotten that poetry, but he does his best to listen and be interested because he's a good friend.

Travie disappears at the door, which is fine. Gabe has other things on his mind. Scoping out Way the elder isn’t an issue in the slightest, the club isn't busy at this time. It's early afternoon so it's practically empty, a few staff milling about and the girls on stage gearing up for rehearsal, blowing him kisses when he waves as he walks by.

Gerard is off in the corner by the back door, sulking as he's known to do. He somehow looks even more miserable when he notices Gabe was approaching, tries to look away like that might stop Gabe somehow. He should know better by now.

“How is he,” Gabe asks immediately, and Gerard sighs, blowing his hair out of his face.

“Hello to you too, Gabriel.”

“Gerard.” Usually he'd be worried about annoying Gerard, he's never been on his bad side, but now's not the time for this. Gabe narrows his eyes and Gerard concedes, letting his shoulders slump.

“Not good. You can go see him if you want. Do you want me to-”

The last thing Gabe wants is Gerard Way hanging over his shoulder, like some sort of bad omen. “No, thank you. I’ve been there enough to know.”

Gerard makes a face and Gabe grins at him to try and reassure him before heading through the door to the back. The Ways don’t live here, but where Gerard goes, Mikey goes, and lately Mikey's spending most of his time in one of the rooms in the other building. The room is generally used for... other things. Less noble things than helping the sick. The proof's in the pink wallpaper, the vanity cluttered with feminine things Mikey has no use for. The girl who usually occupies this bed is probably doing just fine though, running around on Iero's dollar.  

Mikey is seated on the bed facing the window even though the pale white curtains are closed, slumped over and sickly looking. And he isn’t alone. Someone unfamiliar is with him, a tall stick thin man who's definitely overdressed. His hair's too long to be anything but feminine, tucked behind his ears. He's looming over Mikey with one hand on his shoulder, talking in a hushed tone until Mikey clears his throat.

“Hello, Gabriel.”

The other man starts and straightens, whirling around. He's very pretty, Gabe notes. Pretty in a very girlish way. He's also very flustered about getting caught doing... whatever it is he's doing in here, making a face and tucking his hair behind his ear again sheepishly.

"Hello," he says, looking down as Mikey gets to his feet shakily, bracing himself with one hand against the bed.

“This is William,” Mikey says, looking from Gabe to the other man like he's confused about something. “He’s… A doctor.”

“Are you sure about that?” The pause is concerning. Gabe raises an eyebrow when William looks up at him again before averting his eyes. It's oddly endearing, even if the guy is totally strange.

“Pos-i-tutely,” Mikey says, finding a smile from somewhere. “William, this is the constant thorn in my side.”

“Pleasure.” Gabe bows with a flourish. He's being dramatic for Mikey's benefit but if he makes William smile in the process that's no great loss. He _is_ rather good looking, someone Gabe might like to get to know better if he didn't feel so strange hitting on anyone in Mikey's presence.

“Should I let you two be,” William says, looking between the two, but Mikey waves a hand. Things tend to happen when he's alone with Gabe, nothing that should be happening if he's half as sick as he looks.

For a moment, what Gerard was saying sticks in Gabe’s head. That Mikey isn’t getting any better. He certainly doesn’t _look_ any better. His skin is frightfully pale- paler than he usually is, somehow. He's got deep dark circles under his eyes and he's shaking ever so slightly.

William tuts, rummaging around in one of the drawers for something to cover him up. Gabe watches him, fascinated, even as Mikey started talking again.

“Gerard actually let you in? You must be special, Saporta, Frank’s not even allowed in here.”

“Your brother’s gonna start a turf war if Iero finds out about this.” It's weird hearing someone refer to Iero by his first name. Then again, he's oddly fond of Mikey. As everyone is. Gabe side eyes William, wondering if maybe he feels the same way. If he's been spending this much time around Mikey, he must be just a little bit goofy for him. It's just something that happens.

If he is, he's good at hiding it. William finds a ratty wool blanket, draping it over Mikey’s shoulders. He seems generally uninterested otherwise, peeking through his hair at Gabe every so often.

Mikey pulls the blanket tighter around himself as Gabe fights off the urge to try and lighten the mood with a joke about keeping him warm. His sense of humour is failing him now when he needs it most. Fuck.

“Did you just come to see me before I died,” Mikey says suddenly, startling William. He doesn’t look impressed, and Gabe feels bad immediately.

“That’s not it, you dummy.” Maybe a little. Gabe wants to spend as much time with him as he can, just in case something bad does happen. He can’t think of that now. “I came to ogle your friend, obviously.”

“William and I aren’t friends,” Mikey says, obviously trying not to smile. William has a deer in the headlights look on that's totally adorable. Gabe almost stops worrying for a moment. Almost. “He’s my doctor.”

“Right, that. He needs to fix you up so you can come dancing with me. None of the girls are as good as you.”

That makes Mikey laugh, something that devolves quickly into coughing. William rushes to his side, patting him on the back. Gabe is almost buying the doctor thing now. It isn’t clear what William's really here for, but there's no way they’d put someone like him in charge of Mikey’s health. Maybe he's _magic_.

“Maybe you should go,” William says after a long silence, where Mikey can’t force enough air back into his body to actually assure Gabe that he feels fine. Gabe just nods, because hey, the fake doctor probably knows best.

“I’ll be back soon as I can to see you, okay?”

And Mikey can’t actually respond to that. He's leaning his head back, eyes closed, oblivious to everything. William goes over and removes his glasses for him, folding them up and putting them on the nightstand before turning and smiling at Gabe. Despite himself, Gabe feels a little better.

One of the new guys is standing right by the door with Gerard. He's dressed up ridiculously, just like William, deep in quiet conversation with his head bent. There's a lot of extra stuff going around here that Gabe's only just starting to notice. It's throwing him off- usually he's in the know. Mikey's a vicious gossip and he trusts Gabe with any secret that isn't directly related to the operation. Even if he slips up and shares something he shouldn't have, he knows Gabe won't go running straight to Trohman to relay it. It says a lot about their friendship.

And if Mikey doesn't know something, Matt or Disashi probably heard it from one of the dancers, who'd heard it from one of her cousins who was friends with one of Iero's higher-ups that weren't the Ways. Most of the time those rumours aren't reliable, but they're _fun_.

Now, it seemed, all anyone ever talked about was the killings going on. Gabe doesn’t care. People die in this business all the time. It's never anything personal, until it is.

By the time he's out, rehearsal has started, and Travie's sitting on the edge of the stage with some kid Gabe doesn’t know as the girls work through their number without the music. Maybe he's one of the new recruits running around, he doesn’t seem familiar at all. Where’d they come from anyways? He’d have to ask Gerard about all these new weirdos running around.

Travie throws his head back and laughs loudly at something the guy said, something that's drowned out almost immediately by the girls reprimanding one of their own for messing up a step. He seems to be having a good time, so Gabe decides to leave him here. Let him have a good time, he deserves it.

For once, Gabe isn’t in the mood to party. He tucks his hands in his pockets and heads on towards the exit, trying to put his thoughts in order. He can’t stop thinking about Mikey- how sick Mikey looks, how nobody thinks he's going to make it, how he isn’t sure what he’ll do if Mikey…

But that's not going to happen. Maybe he and Iero don’t see eye to eye on pretty much anything, but Gabe trusts him enough to not to let Mikey die.

He’ll go home and sleep. Usually a little bit of whiskey puts him straight under. It's well worth the hassle.

 

 

_William is well out of sorts when Iero comes to visit, cursing himself for being so weak around pretty people. He's been fighting the urge to wake Mikey up and ask a million questions about Gabe for hours now, and he's held off this long, but it's still at the forefront of his mind. Can he be blamed? Even he has weaknesses. You can be a hopeless romantic and also a killer of killers._

_Not that it was love at first sight or anything. Fascination at first sight, perhaps. William wouldn't ever be in love with anyone again, but he could appreciate people who weren't the love of his life. He has eyes._

_He already knows a little bit about Gabriel Saporta. Mikey sometimes can't shut up about him, especially when he's delirious. He talks like Gabe is a legendary hero, and now William has a face to put to the name of the dashing protagonist in the forefront of all Mikey's stories that sound too outrageous to be true. He's as handsome as they say, and William is caught up in it._

_This is not a state he should be in, especially not in the presence of a boss._

_Iero isn't his boss, per se, but William needs to stay on his good side. Iero can provide protection from the police, should it ever be needed. He's one of the most powerful men in the city who's managed to keep his hands clean, and he's got most of the police force in his pocket already. He's not a killer, so William can stand to be in his presence, and he's easy to keep happy. all William needs to do is keep an eye on Mikey. This friendship is a grand one._

_William only developed a problem with him when he changed his terms. What Iero was asking him to do wasn't difficult at all, it just didn't seem humane, and William couldn't agree with that_

_William could see the consideration as Iero stood over his best friend, concern written all over his face as Mikey lay there barely breathing. He looked like death, William would be the first to admit that, but if he were a human about to lose his best friend he wouldn’t condemn them to this life. Humans always seemed to have a glamorized view of it, didn't view it as such a bad thing._

_“Your mind is elsewhere,” Iero says quietly, snapping William out of his thoughts. He was supposed to go out tonight, Gabe had distracted him from that, and now he's stuck with Mikey. He’ll send Carden, for once, Carden is more focused than Brendon. More efficient._

_“Sorry, sir,” William said, straightening and doing his best to look alert. “Did you need something?”_

_“I want you to do it.”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“Do it, and don't ask anymore questions,” Iero snaps, mistaking William’s genuine concern for defiance. He takes one last look at Mikey before he leaves, glaring at William as he heads out. This is a bad idea. William sighs, kneeling down beside Mikey’s bed. Humans can be so strange sometimes. He has no intention of going through with this, not yet._

_“I wonder what you’d say if you knew,” William mumbles to him, smoothing Mikey’s hair off his forehead. “Some people would kill to be able to live forever. It’s not as great as it sounds.”_

_Mikey looks serene in his sleep. Peaceful. He's a truly lovely person, even in such poor health, and maybe it's selfish but William wants him to stay like that just a little bit longer. He’s grown rather fond of the kid, and they never come back the same way. Brendon has been the only exception to the rule so far._

_“You’ve still got some fight left in you, right?” William moves back over and resumes his post in his chair, where he’s spent a majority of his time this week. He’ll spend the next few days here too, probably, playing nurse, carrying Mikey through his last days of being human._

_At this rate, he won’t have to do it much longer._

 

 

“Another one bites the dust, huh?” Sashi shakes his head sadly. This is definitely not something Travie wants to talk about, if he can help it. “Things are crazy out there, huh?”

“Like you’d know anything, holed up in that club all day,” Travie grumbles. At this point the only one really thinking about all of these deaths is him. Nobody else seems concerned, if they have nothing to hide. Nobody knows anything about the demon, or the fact that he seems to be working for Iero now. Is Iero the one ordering him to kill people? It seems a bit too much, even for him.

“Hey, you hear things.” Disashi stops talking about it, though, Travie doesn’t seem to be in the mood for talking about murder this morning. Or any morning.  “What’s up with you. Did the publisher give you grief or what?”

“No, he’s fine.” Travie sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. That had been the easiest part of his day so far.

“Stay up too late?”

“Maybe.”

Stuff like that means nothing to Disashi, he's up all night most nights, he knows how to deal. He's staying up now, in the daylight hours, just to spend time with him, and Travie wishes he could be more present. He's weak if he doesn't get enough sleep, and he stayed at the club much too late talking to one of the new guys who turned out to be pretty nice. He hadn't meant to stay out so late but here they are.

He still knows nothing about why the new people are at the club. It never dawned on him to ask.

“What’s with all these new people hangin’ around?” He tries to sound casual about it, getting back up to make more coffee. Disashi doesn’t function until he’s had at least five cups of the stuff. “They came outta nowhere.”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Disashi sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Showed up one day, a whole pack of ‘em. Iero let them in for some reason. Think they got a witch doctor or somethin’, gonna make Mikey well. Think their leader’s exchanging his services for protection. Guess Iero's more of a nancy than you. Who'd have thought?”

Travie ignores most of that. Their _leader_. “That the long hair guy?”

Disashi nods. “Beckett, yeah. He’s a nice enough guy, little bit meek. Don’t talk much. Keeps to himself. I like some of the others though.”

 _Meek_. That wasn't the impression Travie got from him when he saw the guy killing someone in cold blood out in the open. He always assumed you had to be a brave soul to do something like that.

He doesn't comment, poking around the kitchen in the search of something to eat as Disashi keeps talking. "I like Carden, he's a swell guy. Even if he’s a lil bit creepy. Always hoverin' around, you’ll turn around and there he is. The Brendon kid’s nice too but he’s always at Beckett’s side, his little underling or whatever. Iero got one of the new guys fillin' in for Eric now, what’s his face. Siska."

"Huh," is all Travie has to say about that. There's no food in here. Or at least nothing he can eat without invoking Mrs. Abel's wrath. He hasn't been paying attention to just how much time he's spent away from his place. "Siska? Like Sisky? He's okay."

“Bit of a freak if you ask me, but he ain’t all bad.”

Travie nods. He'd had many lovely conversations with the kid yesterday, stayed up late talking about music and comparing stories from different clubs they'd been to. He tries not to think about the questions he wants to ask, that Disashi probably wouldn't have the answer for. Were the the new people in league with Beckett, or was it just the kid? Did they know their boss was a demon who kills people or was that something you didn't have to tell your employees? Does Iero know he's got a demon working for him, and if so, does he know that the demon's always hanging over Mikey?

...Wait.  

"You said somethin' about a witch doctor, yeah?"

Disashi gives him a weird look, but he nods. He's not sure where this is going.

"Beckett's the witch doctor?"

"Don't look like one, but that's what Matt said." Disashi looks concerned now, and Travie knows he's making absolutely no sense but he needs to put this together before something awful happens. "You sure you up for goin' out? You look sick."

"M'fine." Travie mumbles, pouring himself more coffee like that'll fix his shaking hands. He's trying not to freak out, not in front of Disashi. They're good friends, but he doesn't want anyone else to have to deal with it if he has a breakdown. This is all he's been thinking about for weeks.

"Really, we can do this another day."

"Fuck that," Travie snaps, softening a little when Disashi flinches. He takes a deep breath to steady himself- he can do this. He's been looking forward to this and he's not going to let Beckett ruin his fun. Dealing with the publisher this morning had been a nightmare, Travie's not about to let anyone else get him down. "Sorry. We can go."

“Then we oughta go. Some of us got jobs that ain’t readin’ Shakespeare and shit.”

Travie doesn’t dignify that with an answer. Shakespeare is overrated. 

He puts William out of his mind, but he does make Disashi take the long route, so he can leave a little journal in the graveyard before they go.

 

 

_William has gotten so busy taking care of Mikey Way that Brendon is often all by himself._

_Carden becomes the leader when William is otherwise unavailable, and most of the time he doesn't have the patience to deal with Brendon. Not many of them do, but it's not his fault. He can't control his energy. It's a condition, honest! It happens to all young vampires! Maybe all of them have conveniently forgotten what it's like being his age, but it's not easy._

_Keeping occupied without orders isn't an easy thing. Brendon keeps completing his hits faster than William can keep up with now that he's a nurse, so Brendon has to slow down, leaving him with more time to kill than he knows what to do with._

_And he’s been told specifically many times not to, but Brendon just wants to go have some fun. Anything is better than sitting around and waiting until an appropriate amount of time has passed for him to return to William. He doesn't have much of a social life to speak of, either, being tacked to William's side and all._

_He's not even really allowed to talk to people who come by the_ House of Wolves _, which is a serious drag, because that's the only opportunity he usually gets. New vampires don't have the luxury of being able to hide their fangs when they want, so the less time Brendon spends interacting with human beings, the happier William is._

_Brendon has one friend though, who he's planning on visiting now. He may as well, he hasn't acted out in a while, so the punishment won't be that bad. He can take it, he decides as he starts heading for that part of town._

_It's a lot quieter this time of night, the streets have been getting more and more empty as news of the murders start spreading, rumours running rampant. None of them are even remotely correct, save for maybe the one where they’ve apparently invoked the wrath of god. William isn’t god by any means, but he's about as close to a demon as you could get._

_Brendon supposes he is too, but that doesn't matter to him, or the people in his clan. Or Spencer. So nobody who truly matters to him cares._

_He met Spencer one night when one of his hits had gone terribly wrong, and a few of the fella's friends had come after him when Brendon realized he hadn't checked if he was alone before sinking his teeth into the target's neck. Brendon could have taken them out quite easily, if William allowed that to happen, but they never kill innocent people. If they did that they'd be no better than the other vampires, who don't care who they're hurting._

_So, because he couldn't fight, Brendon ran. Generally, scaling a fence and climbing up a wall and going through someone's bedroom window was looked down upon as a valid escape method, but everyone has to improvise sometimes. He hadn't meant to, but he'd nearly scared Spencer out of his mind- poor Spencer, who had just been sitting in bed minding his own business. Brendon's confident enough in his hypnotizing ability to break and enter without consequence, even if he isn't the master William is._

_The hypnotism, it turned out, wasn't even needed after a bit. Spencer convinced himself he was dreaming and they sat there for a while and talked about anything they could think of. It was nice to talk to someone his own age, nice enough that Brendon decided he liked Spencer, and would keep making up excuses to see him even if it meant going against William's orders. William never had to know, right?_ _Making friends with humans was generally not allowed but Spencer was a special case._

_Spencer is awake still when Brendon scales the side of his house with ease, knocking on the window. Not too loudly, he makes the mistake of being too loud sometimes, forgetting that most people his age still live with their parents. Brendon forgets most of the things he supposes he should know about being a normal human. He doesn't remember much, can't imagine being as soft and squishy as Spencer is at any point in his life._

_He's only outside for a moment, then Spencer comes over and opens the window for him, grinning. "You don't look panicked. Is something wrong?"_

_"Hey, sometimes I'm an average john," Brendon says, crawling on through. He's a little unsettled that things have moved about a little bit since he was here last. "Did you redecorate?"_

_“No, my aunt’s staying over. So you have to be quiet, she’s in the next room.” Spencer points at the wall._

_If there's one thing Brendon is bad at, it's keeping quiet. But he nods, determined to do his best for Spencer's sake. And for his own. He's not ready to leave, he just got here._

_“No secret mission tonight,” Spencer asks him, going to sit on his bed._

_“Already done,” Brendon says, hanging his hat up on Spencer’s bed post before perching himself at the end. His hair is messy enough that Spencer feels the need to lean over and flatten it down._

_“Who’d you go after this time?”_

_“You’re awfully casual about the fact that I kill and eat people for a living.” Brendon side eyes him. “Are you hiding something, Spencer Smith?”_

_“Yes. I too, am a demon.” He nods solemnly, and Brendon grins at him before thinking better about it. Spencer has never expressed any sort of alarm concerning Brendon’s fangs, but he could always change his mind. Humans are always changing their minds._

_“Well, that aside, today was a very easy job.” Brendon lays back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. It was odd being in someone’s home, it was nothing even remotely comparable at the club. They have no use for sleep, so bedrooms are pretty useless. Brendon just stays up all night and naps on the couch in the back during the day just to pass the time. Spencer’s room is comforting in that way. It feels like a home._

_“Do you ever do anything that isn’t killing and eating people? Like, do you ever do things for fun?”_

_Brendon doesn’t know how to answer that. “I go dancing?”_

_“You do?” Spencer raises an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as a dancer.”_

_“I’m not, by any means.” He'd been learning from Mikey, for a bit there. And then Gerard. But nowadays everyone's too busy with everything that's going on, and Brendon is still a bad dancer._

_“I could teach you." Spencer gets up off the bed, holding his hands out patiently until Brendon rolls his eyes and gets up too. "I'll go easy on you, promise. A waltz, maybe?"_

_William's been trying to teach him how to waltz, apparently it's more dignified than whatever the kids at the club are doing. But William's too tall and Brendon's arms get tired, and then he gets distracted and everything falls apart. Spencer will probably be a better teacher._

_"You're gonna be the girl," he says, before Brendon can protest, grinning at the annoyed grumbling he gets in return. Brendon doesn't spend too much time complaining, more focused on not stepping on Spencer's feet once their hands are clasped together. They go painfully slow at first, which is nice. William always starts full speed ahead._

_Spencer waits until Brendon goes a little while without stepping on his toes before he throws in the distraction of talking. "Where do you go dancing?"_

_Bad idea. Brendon nearly fumbles then, and Spencer tightens his grip. The matter isn't pushed any further because Spencer is a gentleman, even if he looks a little bit disappointed._

_Brendon is lost in thought as Spencer spins him around. Would it really be so bad if he came to the_  House of Wolves _? Would William really be so opposed to Brendon finding a friend? Spencer already knows about them, he isn't a threat to their safety, right? He won't say anything. Or maybe Brendon can pretend Spencer is just some kid that wandered in on his own accord. A random stranger._

_He's jolted out of his thoughts when he steps on Spencer's foot again, nearly sending them both off balance. "Where've you gone you goof?"_

_"I was just thinking!" Brendon tightens his grip on Spencer's hand, newly determined. "Maybe you_ could _come and see me? I'm crashing at the_ House of Wolves _."_

 _"The_ House of Wolves _? I can't get in there!"_

 _"Just come around the back! I'll sneak you in. Nobody will be the wiser." Brendon bites his lip as Spencer mulls that over. It would be so nice to see him in a setting where they can actually_ do  _things, nice as this is. "Just think about it, okay?"_

 _"You bet-ski!" Spencer grins, pulling Brendon up against him. "But you gotta get better at dancing before then. You've got all the grace of an elephant."_  

_"Fine, but you have to dress better than this." Brendon picks at Spencer's shirt, making a face._

_Spencer huffs indignantly and lets go of Brendon. “Do you know what time it is? I’m supposed to be asleep.”_

_Brendon gives him a little shove, towards the bed. "Why didn't you say so? Go to sleep!"_

_"I thought it would be obvious?" Not really. None of the humans Brendon knows go to bed at night. They're too busy at work to sleep at night. "I can't sleep with you watching me."_

_"I'm not gonna watch you sleep!"_

_Spencer doesn’t respond to that, just sits on his bed and holds his arms out until Brendon sighs and lays down with him._

_“You’re gonna be really useful in the summer, you know,” Spencer mumbles, pressing himself into Brendon’s side. They’ve done this lots of times, but it still throws Brendon off to be so close to someone who's so warm._

_"Don’t make fun of me.”_

_“Whatever. Tell me a story and don’t leave until I fall asleep.”_

_“You’re bossy,” Brendon grumbles, but he obliges, because he has nothing better to do. And Spencer was pretty great. "Did I ever tell you about the time we got stuck in Louisiana?"_

 

 

Mikey is only getting worse, and Gabe isn’t really sure how to deal with it. So instead of even attempting to deal with it, he takes the route he always does when faced with a challenge he has no hope of navigating. He spirals.

Travie is too busy to keep coming to the _House of Wolves_ with him every day, and Gabe isn’t sure why he keeps going there himself. Half the time Mikey isn’t even conscious when Gabe arrives, so he sits by and talks about trivial things with William. William's a pretty nice person, all things considered, and talking to him is a bit calming. But then Gerard usually gets nervous and kicks him out in the nicest way possible before Gabe and William can get very far.

After that Gabe would wander, maybe he’d get drunk, maybe he’d charm some girl home with him.

Eventually Victoria convinces him to take a break, stops him after work just before he heads out to the club. She's a saint, truly, the only person he spends extensive amounts of time with who isn't Travie or Mikey. His second favourite partner in crime.   

“This is a stupid idea, and you know it,” she says simply, and she's right. She usually is. Gabe just doesn’t know what else to do with himself. “Take a deep breath, and I’ll take you out.”

“Is this a date?”

“You wish.” Victoria sighs. Gabe dredges up the rest of his useless charm to employ, because Victoria will know something is seriously wrong if he stops hitting on her while he has such an excellent opportunity. “We’ll go see a movie or something, if that’ll get that sad puppy look off of your face.”

“I’d be honoured.”

“Shut up. Come on.”

Victoria is refreshing because she cares about him, but not in the way that makes her feel the need to coddle him. Even Travie is prone to babying Gabe on occasion when all he needs is to be told _no_. Victoria isn’t afraid of that. She can tell him no all day long.

Gabe doesn’t have a lot of people he'd consider to be close friends, but Victoria is probably one of the few who would make the list. She's smart, she's sharp, she's drop-dead gorgeous and she puts up with him. In a word, she's perfect. It's unfortunate she'll never give him a chance.  

Victoria links her arm through his. “What do you want to talk about?”

Not Mikey, not Travie, not work. “What do you know about those new guys at the club?”

“At the _House of Wolves_? Nothing. I don’t have friends who live there like you do.”

Gabe gives her a long, considering look, and she pretends to take interest in a passing gentleman so she won’t have to look at him. Gabe is good at getting what he wants, though, and stares at her until she rolls her eyes.

“Alright, fine, I'll bite. Travis told you he thinks Beckett’s a witch doctor, right?”

Yeah, and it's totally crazy. Gabe is going to have to get himself some friends who actually have sense. Travie is usually so good with these things, Gabe isn't sure what's gotten into him. “Why, is he trying to sell you on that too?”

“No, that’s exactly what he is. Not a witch doctor, but. He certainly isn’t trained in the medical field.” Victoria pauses, looking around again like there might be someone listening in on the conversation. “He showed up out of nowhere one day, at Iero’s door. Gerard found him, apparently, really sold his skills. Whatever those are.”

Interesting. “I can’t imagine there’s a lot of witch doctors around here.”

“I mean, he's not from around here. But who knows. Maybe he could teach you, you could start a less demanding career.”

“I think you’d be a better witch doctor,” Gabe tells her. “You’ve got the face for it.”

"Ha, ha." Victoria gives him a truly terrifying look as they continue on their walk. It's not far to the theatre, but the streets are bustling with people coming and going, getting where they need to go before the sun goes down and the monsters wake up. There's a rather well-dressed crowd gathered around the doors of the theatre, Gabe definitely feels out of place in his street clothes. Victoria doesn’t mind the staring she's getting, dressed as she is, but Gabe sticks out more.

It's something that doesn’t really matter in the dark of the theatre. They sit up close to the front, as Gabe likes, and Victoria settles in beside him. He almost completely forgets about his woes sitting there.

Gabe doesn't know what to say about Victoria's taste in movies, silent horror usually isn't his thing. It's nice enough, though, distracting. He loses himself for a while and stops thinking. He couldn't take Travie to see this, so he might as well enjoy.  

They sit in the theatre until everyone else has gone. Gabe tries to hang on to that blissful empty-mindedness but as soon as it's over, all his worries are back. _Great_.

Victoria’s hand on his knee. “You’re okay, right?”

“I don’t know,” Gabe says, and he means it. Distractions are good, but it's always there in the back of his head, something he hasn’t felt so strongly for a long time.

“Is Travie not around? You wanna go see Travie?”

Gabe shakes his head. Travie would be busy writing at this hour. He’d be more than happy to see Gabe if Gabe showed up, but that would be inconsiderate. “I can head home.”

Victoria gives him a smile as she gets up, holding out a hand. “Hey, no. I’ll take you home. Come on.”

So Gabe never actually makes it home. He hasn’t been home for weeks now, avoiding sleep or crashing on the couch at the _House of Wolves_ , or in the bed of whatever girl had brought him home for the night.

He ends up at Victoria’s house, wandering around her kitchen aimlessly. Usually he can convince her to let him sleep in her bed, but that always ends up exactly as one would expect and, she tells him at least three times on the walk home, she is _not_ in the mood for that. Gabe isn’t tired though, so he takes to wandering around Victoria’s place.

It's pretty much unheard of for a girl Victoria’s age to be living by herself, but she does. She's a modern woman, or whatever. This was her father’s place, still crammed full of his books, so Gabe peruses his options. He doesn’t much care for history, finds all that geography stuff to be boring. The photos of Vicky and her dad are pretty interesting, but there's nothing else to catch his attention.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Gabe calls up the stairs. He doesn’t get an answer so he helps himself to Victoria’s moonshine in retaliation. That would do the trick. He passes out on the couch feeling much better than he had when he got in, and he doesn’t dream at all.

 

 

_"He’s dying,” William says quietly, and Gerard makes a soft sound, like what he’d just been told makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. Like this hasn't been building up for weeks. He closes his eyes and nods, making no move to go in and see his brother. “Are you certain you want to go through with this?”_

_“Yeah- please. Please do it.”_

_William sighs. That isn’t the answer he was looking for, but it_ was  _the one he expected. He's spent a good part of the week talking himself up for this, because it's never an easy thing to go through, for any of the parties involved. “Go fetch Carden for me,” he tells Gerard as he heads back into Mikey’s room._

 _Mikey is lying there, almost totally still. He looks totally at peace lying in this bed, wrapped up in white sheets. He looks dead already. It really_ is _a shame William will have to go through with this to keep on Iero’s good side. Sure, he likes the kid too, Mikey's a lovely person. But there's absolutely nothing good about what's about to happen. This is something for desperate cases, unjust cases. Mikey’s death is neither of those things. But perhaps that’s the power love has over some people. William understands that, to an extent._

_Carden is at his side quick as usual, though Brendon is mysteriously absent. William will have to have a talk with him later about finishing jobs faster, he hadn’t returned until the sun was threatening to rise last night. He had no explanation to offer, either._

_They don’t need Brendon for this. He's lucky._

_“I’ll let you do the dirty work,” William grumbles._

_Carden gives him a quick dirty look and sighs as he kneels down beside the bed. William almost feels bad for asking him to do it, but the thought alone is making him feel queasy. He has to look away as Carden takes Mikey's hand and lifts his arm up, biting into his wrist._

_It's nothing to do with safety- it's perfectly fine to drink the blood of someone who's sick. It just doesn't taste good, and sometimes gives William a stomachache. He's got other things to do, William won't subject himself to that. He's got fledglings for a reason._

_Carden continues to do what he's doing as William shuts the door behind them gently, so that no humans will find the need to come in and see how things are going. He especially doesn't need anyone wanting to know about this process. They have a habit of coming in at inconvenient times, William has learned over the years._

_A little while later, Carden makes a face and gets back to his feet, wiping Mikey's blood off his face with the back of his hand. William's grateful enough that he doesn't chastise him about manners. They're at a funeral, he can be lenient._

_"Thank you," William says curtly, and Carden nods, bowing his head respectfully as he takes a step back._

_William takes a moment to see Mikey as he is, totally serene and unbothered by his condition. Practically dead and barely breathing. He won't be the same when he wakes up again, and that itself is a crying shame. He really was quite lovely. Once he's resigned, William digs the point of his fang into his own wrist until he draws blood, letting it well up and pool a bit before he kneels down on the bed beside Mikey. He's never been overly fond of this part, but it has to be done._

_"I'm terribly sorry," he tells Mikey earnestly as Carden comes over and pulls his nearly still form up into a sitting position. Mikey stirs, taking a deep breath in as his eyes flutter open ever so slightly, vacant and tired. William would love to let him go, but he can't. So he sighs and turns his wrist up, pressing it against Mikey's mouth._

_It's not glamorous. It's never glamorous, and in a moment Mikey is conscious enough to realize what's happening. He makes a disgusted noise, choking on blood as he tries to pull back. It's no good, Carden's there in a moment to hold him in place._

_"He won't let go until you drink, so Mikey just squeezes his eyes shut and does as he's told._

_It feels like hours before Mikey Way dies, slumping against Carden as William pulls away. That's that. William feels truly awful as he gets off the bed, wiping smears of his own blood off his wrist._

_"Tell Gerard to fetch proper restraints, would you," he asks Carden, who nods once and heads off quick as he can._

_This one would be difficult._

 

 

Gabe wakes up with his face smushed into Victoria’s sofa. It's not a very comfortable position to be in. Already, his head is screaming at him, unimpressed with all the whiskey he’d indulged in before sleeping, and he's stiff and sore all over.

Victoria is already up and clanging around in the kitchen, making food by the sound of it. It smells good, whatever it is, but Gabe can’t think about eating right now without feeling sicker than he is. Victoria's living room is far too bright and he's pretty sure he has to get up and go to work at some point today, probably soon. The mere thought is making him miserable.

“I told Nate to cover for you,” Victoria says from the kitchen, as if she can read his mind. Which she probably can, he wouldn’t put it past her. Victoria is a woman of many talents. “So you can relax today.”

“There are angels who aren’t half as pure as you are,” Gabe mumbles, rolling onto his back and draping an arm over his eyes. Victoria huffs a laugh.

“Yeah, okay. That doesn’t mean _I’m_ off work, you know. You can stay as long as you need, but make sure you lock up when you leave.”

“If we got married it would be a lot easier, you know,” Gabe says, forcing himself to sit up. "I could be yours. You only need to ask."

“I’m gonna pass on that one. I’m not a fan of heartbreakers. Don’t want to deal with all the competition.” Victoria is laughing, in the kitchen. How rude! That could have been a genuine proposal! "Besides, you need to find yourself a girl who doesn’t care that you sometimes fuck the guys you work with.”

“Hey, it’s not the guys I work with. It’s  _only_ Travie.” Why don't people get that? 

“You need to be more careful with who you’re telling that to, you’re gonna get him in some serious trouble.” Victoria appears in the living room, wiping her hands on the front of her apron. “Anyways, I’m gonna go get ready. I made breakfast, if you don’t eat it I’ll kill you with my own two hands.”

“Roger.” Gabe just gives her a thumbs up. He slips back to sleep at some point after she leaves, which isn’t all that fun, at the angle he's at. His neck is killing him when he finally gets up, he just takes the food and heads home.

The walk there is excruciating, it had been a serious challenge to try to put himself together enough that he looks even somewhat presentable. He doesn’t feel well, walking is an issue in itself, and the house is depressingly empty and quiet when he finally does make it, a reminder of why he doesn’t ever come home anyways.

Gabe doesn’t even bother changing out of his clothes, he just flops down on his bed as he is and falls back into sleep.

 

 

_William has grown seriously tired of playing babysitter, but now Mikey is taken care of . He won't wake up anytime soon either, so William doesn’t have to sit around while everyone else does his work for him. So he rounds up his troops and sets them loose on the city._

_It's shaping up to be a very productive first night back on the job. Killing two murderers a night just wasn't getting the job done fast enough, so they up the ante. William wants everyone to know he means business. They hunt on their own, rounding up people for William to deal with. He's fast enough that he can get around and finish the job quickly, and maybe they have sort of a slow start, but once William has the blood of a killer in his system he's fine. It_ _flushes out any remaining traces of anxiety and worry over Mikey's safety._

_They reconvene as a pack at the House of Wolves just an hour before the sun comes up. The place is practically deserted, which is probably for the better, considering the state they're in. William's clothes are soaked through with blood, he wasn't taking care with keeping it neat today. His fellow vampires are in a similar state._

_It really is good to be back, even just for a little while._

 

 

Travie isn’t impressed when he rolls up to Gabe's place and he's still passed out on his bed, probably drunk from last night. He's still in his party clothes and he's even got one of his shoes still on. Ridiculous. 

" _Bondye_ , Gabriel," he sighs, because now this is another thing he has to deal with. Travie only came here to relay the information he'd gotten from Hayley when he went back to see her the other day, to try and convince Gabe that he isn't crazy. Now he's in no state to be hearing about anything like that. " _Sa'k pase?_ You gonna kill yourself one of these days, you know?"

Gabe doesn't actually acknowledge that Travie is even speaking to him until the curtains are thrown open. He groans, pulling a pillow over his head. Really, Travie needs to stop barging in. It's rude to barge into someone's home at this hour and demand these things.

"Yeah, yeah, life's hard. You're lucky I got everything done yesterday or you'd be wasting today away too, huh? What's wrong with you? Get up, you have work to do." Travie tuts. He's already in mother mode, trying to pick the place up. He's not sure how long Gabe's been like this, but judging by the state of the place it hasn't been all that great for a while. "I could have had a relaxing day, but now I'm stuck babysitting _you_." 

Gabe tries to convey that he's fine, that he's just sad about Mikey and that he's dealing with it very poorly, that's all. He's nowhere near coherent enough, however, so it comes out as a pained sounding groan that Travie mistakes for more complaining. It's an unrealistic wish but he'd just like to go back to sleep. He won't consider it now that he's in Mother Mode. He'd just be thinking about Gabe all day.

So he does good on his word and starts on breakfast. It's something that takes longer than anticipated, because of the state of the place. He's halfway done cooking the eggs when Gabe comes back out wrapped up in his sheets. Of course he's got to be annoying, he shuffles into the kitchen and hooks his chin over Travie's shoulder, smiling sleepily. "You're still here?"

Travie shrugged him off, glaring hard at their breakfast. "Bank's closed, buddy. Get away from me, you smell like a barrel house."

"Thought you liked the smell of liquor?" Gabe kisses Travie's cheek, even as he starts grumbling. He goes and slumps down at the table, yawning hugely.

"Yeah, in a bottle. Not on you. Sit up straight, you actin' like a child." Travie looks back until Gabe pouts and does it. "Good. Now you gonna eat and get yourself cleaned up, and you're not gonna go anywhere close to the House of Wolves, 'cause nothing's gonna happen if you don't show up for a single day. You got a meeting tomorrow, can't have you lookin' a wreck." 

Let anyone say he's a bad friend. 

 

 

_Bringing someone back from the dead is such a tedious process._

_They're getting closer to the end now, so William is now once again unable to leave Mikey's side as he sleeps. It's maddening in a multitude of ways. William is beginning to get hungry, but there's no way anyone can bring food for him in here without raising suspicion. Most days he's bored out of his skull, and has nothing to do but think about all the trouble his family could be getting into. He doesn't trust Brendon to be functioning rationally on his own, and none of the others can keep a constant eye on him to make sure he's not getting into any trouble._

_They're all out on the prowl, getting their jobs done, and here William is babysitting a dead body. Thinking about that, William is rather glad he'd never existed as a human at all, because this process didn't seem to be an easy one. Maybe it's not one Mikey will remember, but it's one the last shred of his own consciousness is having to battle. This is a lot of strain for a human being to handle; a lot of changes to go through. They're simple creatures, to suddenly have all these new abilities is hard on their bodies, to say the least._

_Every so often, Mikey will twitch or move and make William jump. He's gotten used to the stillness of the room, and he's not brave when he's this hungry. If anything, he's more anxious and painfully aware of everything going on around him. He can hear all the unsavory things going on in the rooms around him, the parties happening in the hall, and he longs to be out there. He wants to move past that, out into the streets, doing what he's set out to do. Purging the city of evil seems much more rewarding than babysitting a corpse._

_He won't leave Mikey, though. He's got an obligation._

_William isn't sure how many days have passed anymore. The curtains are drawn closed tight all the time, as if the window behind them aren't painted black so no light can get in. He counts time by his growing hunger and periodic visits from Brendon and Carden. William isn't worried about Carden, but every time he's here, Brendon smells like human. One specific human. Does he think William wouldn't notice something like that? William is getting annoyed. Does Brendon think he's stupid? Really, he must._

_The only reason William hasn't called him out on it is because he doesn't want to scare the kid off. Brendon can provide him with stories of the outside world, and interesting information that he can't really get elsewhere at the moment. Carden is firmly against the idea, so William sends Brendon out to learn as much as he can about the subject. One night when William is hungry enough that he can't think of anything else, Brendon decides to sit with him for a while. He doesn't smell like human this time, maybe he's caught on._

_"You wanted to know about Gabe, right?? He's not part of this gang," Brendon says, ducking his head and covering his mouth as he talks by habit. "He's a part of Trohman's operation."_

_"Trohman?" William frowns._ The _Trohman?"_

 _"The very same." Brendon nods solemnly. "I think he's been out of the game for a while now, switched his sights on bootlegging. Gabe doesn't know anything about his previous career, it seems. Iero doesn't particularly care for him, he's only allowed in here 'cause he's friends with Mikey. That's it. I think they were, y'know. In_ relations _." He puts heavy emphasis on the last word._

_William figured that might be the case. He doesn't know all that much about Mikey, but he's always talking about Gabe, and everyone loves him dearly. If they didn't, they wouldn't be in this situation._

_Brendon tilts his head at Mikey, lying there on the bed. "I guess they ended up on different sides. He's a funny guy, though. I guess that's why Iero keeps him around. Gerard doesn't like him."_

_Gerard doesn't really like anyone, but William thinks he's funny. "Say I wanted to make Mr. Saporta's acquaintance. Would there be any problems?"_

_Brendon's face lights up. "Why? Are you goofy for him, master? I don't blame you-"_

_"Nothing of the sort," William snaps, and Brendon stops smiling, but he still seems smug._

_"If I'm honest, master, I'd say he's spoken for. Or I've heard that. Rumours, you know." Brendon waves a hand. "You met the guy. He's afraid of you."_

_"Travis?"_

_Brendon nods. Oh boy. William will have to figure this one out. Travis has had enough sense to keep his mouth shut so far, maybe he hasn't said anything to Gabe yet?_

_"Master, Carden said I should tell you this is a bad idea." Brendon smiles and looks away, down at Mikey. "But um. I think we all gotta go against our better judgement sometimes. Life would get pretty boring otherwise."_

 

 

It's mostly Travie’s mothering, but Gabe has managed to pick himself up and dust himself off, in the loosest sense of the word. Sure, he isn’t all the way better. Nobody will tell him how Mikey is doing, which almost certainly means the worst, especially when he asked and Gerard wouldn’t even look him in the eye. He stared down at his feet when he started mumbling about how he's okay, how everything's going to be okay. 

The past few days have been spent in a haze of mundane clockwork habits. Get up, go to work, go home. He isn’t up to going out anywhere that isn't directly related to work, even when Travie suggests it. You can always tell when he's getting worried, Travie never wants to go anywhere ever.

Relaxing is pretty nice. Sometimes Travie will stay with him, and they won't talk about much, they'll just enjoy each other's company.

Work is becoming a pain too. Gabe is seriously considering faking a terminal illness to get out of meeting with Mr. Ross who is, quite possibly, the most boring person Gabe has met in his entire life. Poets tend to be, he finds, Travie is the only person exempt from this rule. The others are just too caught up in themselves to exist as people.

They’ve been in business with the Rosses for a while now, and they've always been on good terms. But now the younger one’s taken over the business and Gabe doesn’t find him overly agreeable. Not that his father was all that agreeable either, the younger is just more insufferable. Maybe it’s just because he’s learning, maybe it’s because he doesn’t seem to have any manners and is a thudding bore. One of those. 

Generally Nate deals with them, but he's out on some other business. There isn’t enough people around to even get out of talking to Ross directly, as they sit at a table in their tiny crowded corner of the club, uncomfortably close to each other. Gabe has Victoria and Ryland with him today, which is better than usual when he’s here with Nate and Alex, babysitting for hours.

Ross always comes with two of his business partners. Or, one, rather, Walker is the only who really does any of the talking. He's also the only one who seems to know anything about the business. Ross is clueless himself, and Smith probably isn't even in the business. He's probably just Ross' friend, he looks about sixteen years old, and too nice to be in the business.

They've already struggled through the pleasantries over dinner, and it's time to get down to business now. Ross is expressing his boredom already, tapping his nails against his mostly-empty glass of whiskey. Smith is rather taken with the contents of his own glass. Gabe suspects neither of them are old enough to drink but then again, none of them are supposed to be doing it anyways. Walker and Ryland are chatting idly, Walker with a smile on his face and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He's the only pleasant one here. Victoria's getting impatient with Ross' attitude, and Smith isn't even paying attention, looking about as if he expects to see someone in the crowd.  

Dealing with kids hasn't been Victoria's strong suit for a while now. She doesn't say anything and the other conversation lulls. It's silent for a moment before they finally get to the point.  

“What we’re saying right now is that staying in business isn’t the priority, at this point,” Walker says, which is probably the last thing any of them ever expected to hear.

“It’s dangerous to be a criminal these days,” Ross says, raising an eyebrow at his glass. “It’ll get you killed.”

"We're not criminals," Gabe informs him, to which Ross huffs a laugh and goes back to his sullen silence. It's true though, they aren't. Not in the way that will get them killed.The only people in their profession who are being picked off are the ones who are killers themselves. Gabe doesn’t kill people, he just distributes goods that should already be available to the general public, stupid laws be damned. He’s doing everyone a _service_.

“We are criminals, a little bit,” Victoria allows, “but not in the way that’ll get us offed by some crazy serial killer.”

Ross isn't having it. He leans back in his chair. “Well, who’s to say. I don’t want to die.”

“There was a chance you were going to die before the psycho serial killer started, Ross,” Ryland says patiently. He's the only one who isn't ready to launch themselves over the table and strangle the kid. Gabe had lost interest in the proceedings, more interested in watching Smith intently. The kid is uncomfortable about something, making a face every time someone says something about the killer.

Does he know something? He's got a guilty look on.

Gabe leans his chin on his hand and stares right at him as the others keep the conversation going. Smith refuses to look at him.

“All I’m saying is that now there’s a heightened chance of dying now that there’s a crazy psycho killer on the loose,” Ross says, sounding as irritated as Victoria looks. Gabe suspects she's about ten seconds away from threatening to kill him.

“All I’m saying is that you’re going to lose all your business to Iero if you back out now,” Ryland says, which is actually a much smarter approach. If there's one thing the kid hates, it's losing. Spencer sneaks a glance at Gabe and adverts his eyes again when it's obvious he's not about to look away. He knows something, obviously. Or he's just really shy. Both options are equally likely.

Walker is giving Ross a look as he mulls that over quietly. He doesn't really get a chance to respond to anything, because people are yelling, scrambling out of their seats and running. Hell breaks loose.

It's a raid.

Gabe isn't too worried, his crew's pretty fuckin' fast in these situations, much faster than Ross' by far. Victoria and Ryland are out of sight in no time at all, while Ross flounders. Walker is nowhere in sight.

Gabe grabs Smith's arm before he can disappear into the crush of people, hauling him in close as they make their exit. Gabe has questions, Smith might have answers. He's giving Gabe a deer in the headlights look that almost weakens Gabe's resolve as they spill out into the street, ducking around the corner first thing.

"My friends are the other way," Smith protests weakly, but he's resigned. Gabe can tell.

"I'm your friends now." Gabe keeps walking, dragging Smith along with him until they're far enough down the street that there probably won't be any problems.

"Mr. Saporta I don't think-"

"Don't think. Keep walking," Gabe says. Smith stumbles behind him, looking miserable. He's not so brave without his friends, it seems. "Tell me what you're doing here. And don't say it's for Ross. You obviously have other things on your mind."

They come to a stop and Gabe spins Smith to face him. He looks embarrassed.

"I was supposed to meet someone," Smith says quietly, after a moment. "Just a friend."

"What friend?" Gabe lets go as some other people pass by. Smith is too jumpy, Gabe can't trust him to keep quiet. "And don't say I won't know them. You don't know who I know." 

Smith looks away stubbornly. Gabe is mildly concerned when his face lights up ans he waves to someone across the street. He nearly drags the kid off again, squinting in the dark to try and make out the person rushing up to them. 

The youngest kid who hangs out around the club. He looks really happy, covering his mouth up with his hand when he finally takes Gabe in. 

"Brendon!" Smith sounds so relieved. Gabe lets go of him, just in case people start taking this the wrong way. Someone else is with the kid.

Mikey's witch doctor. He looks a little alarmed to see Gabe out of context, desperately trying to smooth his hair out of his face. It's endearing, in a weird way.

"Gabriel. Hello." He ducks his head, then straightens when they hear voices down the street. Smith and the kid have mysteriously disappeared. Gabe nudges William's arm and starts walking when people down the street start approaching. 

It's not a life-or-death situation, but Gabe is still tense. He's not really sure what to talk about. He just says the first thing on his mind. "How's Mikey?"

William sighs, tucking his hair behind his ear again. "He's... He'll be fine. I'm confident about that."

Gabe is sure he's never been more relieved in his life, probably. He trusts William not to say these things to pacify him. "I was worried." 

"Everyone was." William smiles just a little bit. "He certainly has a lot of friends."

Gabe nods. Everyone loves Mikey. "Does that mean you and yours are leaving the club?"

"I'm not sure. I'd like to stay, I think." 

"What were you doing in there anyways? I've never seen you outside the club." Gabe knows he sounds nosy, but he doesn't really mind. William is awkward, looking all around as if there might be something more interesting than Gabe to see. 

"I had business to attend to."

"Meeting a friend like your young consort?" 

"Consort!" William snorts. "Please. Nothing of the sort." 

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," he says, grinning until William also cracks a smile, ducking his head sheepishly. "Are you headed back to the club? I could take you there."

William makes a show of considering the proposal, before he shrugs. "I suppose it couldn't hurt."

 

 

 _It takes a moment, but William manages to straighten himself out and calms down just a little bit. He's still feeling flustered, and he's not sure why. He's been outside the club before, he's not so awkward that he can't behave properly at someone else's house. When Gabe had suggested a detour, William had agreed without really thinking, and he's not sure why. It dawned on him halfway through his visit, as they were sitting at Gabe's kitchen table laughing about some story about nonsense Travis had gotten into, that he was getting behind schedule._ _He'd forgotten all about his hit, and about how urgent it is that he gets back to Mikey as soon as possible._

_Gabe makes his head all foggy. He's wasted too much time already, he's supposed to get himself some food and return to the club. Not that Carden is untrustworthy keeping an eye on Mikey, it's just that he wouldn't have the first idea what to do if something should happen. He's never been around when someone woke up._

_First thing's first, though. William grabs Brendon by the collar, making him yelp and try to turn around as William starts dragging him. Even as he's stumbling away, he's waving to his bewildered looking human. It's something William will have to address in further detail when they get home. He can't have his subordinates going around befriending random humans. Brendon's probably already told him about what they are, why they're here. It's a recipe for disaster._

_They return hopefully to the scene of the raid, just in case their target stuck around. No such luck. The place is almost totally deserted, with only a few stray people milling about the entrance. William tries his best to pick out their target's scent over the swill of smoke and alcohol and traces of hundreds of other people. No luck._

_Brendon has a better sense of smell. He picks up something, and William is forced to follow behind him. The silence between them is overpowering. William can feel Brendon's nerves from where he's standing._

_"Is there perhaps something you'd like to share with me," he says after a while, noting when Brendon flinches._

_"I'm sorry, master," he says almost immediately, ducking his head like a scolded puppy. It's hard to stay mad at Brendon sometimes, but William needs to stay firm._

_"You know I can't allow this."_

_"I know, master." Brendon looks miserable, peeking through his hair. :He's just been keeping me from getting lonely."_

_And William gets that, he really does. He'd love to be able to let Brendon wander around on his own and make friends with anyone he'd like. He's surrounded by adults constantly, which would be fine, if he was an adult himself, or if he'd been dead long enough to be able to pass himself off as one. Brendon is neither of those things. He's a kid, through and through. William's happy he's got a friend, but it's not something he can actually allow. The kid may be a Hunter, or someone associated with them, whether he knows about it or not._

_"His name is Spencer," Brendon says, without prompting. " I almost got in a fight with a group of innocent people so I hid in his house? I mean I didn't know him before that so it wasn't a smart move but he's lovely and he's not part of a gang- well not really, he's good friends with Ryan Ross though-"_

_"The very same Ryan Ross who works for our rivals?"_

_"The very same Ryan Ross that works for the same people Gabe Saporta works for," Brendon says. How cheeky. William really_ would _have to sort him out later._

_"We'll talk about this later," he says coolly, and they don't talk after that._

_The girl they're after is still walking home, leaning heavily against her guy as they giggle, stumbling down the sidewalk. In an instant, William's hunger comes crashing back to him, and he's too ravenous to try and get the guy out of the way first. Brendon scrambles to get the guy under his spell as William comes down on the girl, convincing him to keep walking, nothing's wrong._

_Once he's gone, they head home. They don't talk._

 

 

Travie has found himself at the graveyard nearly every day after he has a nightmare about the demon. He's starting to understand the eerie charm of the place, and Hayley always seems to know what to say to put his mind at ease. It's not like he has much else to do with his time, he doesn't want to bug Disashi and work has been slow for him. Gabe has been busy working with the big shots who won't tolerate Victoria and Travie in their presence, so they both have a lot of time to themselves.  

He sees Gabe in the evenings sometimes, though they don't really have much to do. Gabe is obviously always thinking about other matters, and the House of Wolves is being patrolled constantly by Beckett's men, so there's noway Travie would be caught dead near that place. So instead of forcing Gabe to hang around, Travie busies himself.

Being around Hayley is calming in itself. She's pretty smart for someone who's... however old she is, Travie's not really sure. She seems to know a lot of things a girl who is probably a teenager shouldn't know, but Travie's not surprised by anything anymore.

Mostly, he just sits by as she works on whatever she's doing that day. He's set up at the stone angel's feet with his notebook, humming a song he heard he heard on Gabe's radio the other day as she sits on a blanket in the grass. It's sunny out, he wouldn't mind just sitting here all afternoon.

"You ever do stuff that isn't... whatever this is?" Travie looks up from his book to gesture at the random assortment of tools and wood she's got in front of her.

Hayley shrugs, brushing hair out of her eyes as she takes a knife to the stick of wood in her hand. "I go dancing, sometimes."

"Uh huh? What is it you do anyways? With all that." He waves a hand at the pointy wooden sticks she's already made. "What are these even for?"

"Vampires are hard to kill. I guess you'd say we hunt them." Travie doesn't ask who we entails. Hayley doesn't say. "I'm not experienced enough to seek 'em out yet. I just bump 'em off when the need arises. There's groups of us in other cities. They're a lot more famous. You know, more effective."

"You ever met any of them?"

"Once." Hayley sets down another stake. Travie is seriously wondering how she can be discussing these matters so casually. "A pack of 'em. Totally famous. One of them's undead himself. Feels he has a point to prove."

A vampire vampire hunter. Travie makes a face. That seems a little redundant. He just nods in acknowledgement and goes back to his book. Hayley is talking idly about things they can use to take out vampires, he hears some of it and tunes some out. Holy water only works on vampires aligned with demons, like Beckett. Wood is one of the only things that can kill them otherwise. It's not reassuring in the slightest, but Travie is learning to deal with this.

He leaves the graveyard feeling more enlightened, with a wooden stake tucked in his jacket. He's determined to tell Gabe the truth tonight, try and convince him to stay away from Beckett. Maybe Gabe will think he's crazy, but he'll see soon enough. Travie will make sure of it.

"Where do you keep disappearing to," Gabe asks as he flops down on Travie's bed later, pretending to be very interested in the random book he picked off the shelf. "I'm starting to get jealous."

Travie turns around and glares at him. "What'd I say about joking like that?"

"Sorry, sorry. I really do wanna know, though." Gabe comes and sits with him. "What's up with you? Did you get a girl without telling me?"  

"No?" Travie's never really comfortable when this girl subject comes up, so he changes the conversation so Gabe won't push it. "I made a _friend_."

"That's cool." Gabe's not even really listening. He's still got something else on his mind, something he's probably going to ask Travie about. "I've been making new friends too."

Travie sighs. "Whatever it is you're gonna say, spit it out."

Gabe isn't subtle. He grins and sits up. "Do you know anything new about the fellas at the club? Did Sashi tell you anything?"

"They're bad news, and we shouldn't trust them," Travie says, bowing his head. He starts penning things down in the hopes that Gabe will shut his mouth and lie back or something, but no dice. He can't take a hint. "Where are you going with this."

"William's pretty great. I stuck around with him after the raid at Ross'."

Fuck. Travie puts his pen down. "You know I don't like William."

It comes out maybe a little more aggressive than it's meant to, which Gabe is focused on. "You know something about him, don't you?"

"I've been telling you! I've been saying it over and over, Beckett's a demon! He kills people. His friends kill people! Iero's keeping him from the law." 

Gabe's smile hardens. It can only go downhill from here. "So is he a witch doctor or is he a demon, Travie? Or is he both?"

"Hey, fuck you." This is embarrassing, and it's so much worse because he's not lying. 

"I'm dead serious, is this a jealousy thing?" 

He's not going to answer that. Travie's too embarrassed to actually respond, or to set the record straight when Gabe laughs incredulously. He doesn't look back when Gabe gets up and lets himself out, and he doesn't think about it for the rest of the night.

He puts the stake on the top shelf of his wardrobe, more determined to get rid of the demon than ever. If Gabe doesn't want to believe him, he can take care of things himself.  

 

 

_Four days after dying, Mikey Way wakes up._

_It's a very quick thing. One moment he's still as a corpse and the next he's sitting up with a gasp, as if he's waking up from a nightmare. William's head shoots up and he catches the exact second Mikey realizes how weird it is to be breathing now that he has no need to, now that there's nothing plaguing his lungs. He sits there for a moment, touching his face and trying to take everything in. The world is no doubt sharper, much louder, so much bigger. It can be overwhelming, William's been told. Mikey zeroes in on William in a moment, after looking around himself for his glasses._

_"What hap-" There it is. Mikey pauses and touches his mouth, looking alarmed._

_"They take some getting used to, I'm told," William says softly, making a point to show his own fangs off._

_"I'm dreaming," Mikey tells himself faintly, fixated on William's teeth. "I'm dreaming. This is a fever dream- this is a nightmare."_

_"Unfortunately not. Welcome to being dead, my friend!"_

_Mikey makes a face and opens his mouth up wider, touching the points of his teeth. "I'm dead? This is strange."_

_Is that it? Usually people freak out. Mikey's weird though, William knows that much. His brother's even worse. They're probably the sort of people who don't have problems with this stuff. "I know it'll take some getting used to, but you'll get there. Take care not to bite your tongue."_

_There's so much to do now. William doesn't know where to start, and he doesn't know what he can do on his own. Brendon and Carden are both out for the night, and the others are probably busy. Or William hopes they are. Now that Mikey is awake, they'll have to hurry and get everything ready, if they want to go out with a bang. They can't stay here, not anymore. They can't come back here until Mikey has himself under control, at least, and that takes years sometimes. Once the hunger sets in he won't be himself anymore._

_It's an issue when Gerard comes in unannounced, not so much as a knock. He makes a soft sound when he takes everything in, and goes rushing to the side of Mikey's bed._

_William grabs his arm and yanks him back before he can get there. "You're far too warm to be in here right now," he says calmly when Gerard gives him a hard look. "You don't want to set him off, do you? Stand over there where it's safe."_

_Mikey looks pretty distressed. If he's feeling it already, they don't have much time. William will have to rush the process._

_Gerard can't stop smiling, even standing back by the door. "You're okay! God, Mikes, we thought we lost you..."_

_Mikey looks from his brother to William and back. "What?"_

_"You died," William says, because there's really no better way of putting it. "And then I brought you back. Here you are."_

_"So you're actually..." He's piecing things together now. He's taking this rather well, touching his fangs again. "And I'm...? Damn. Gee, this is so_ cool _..."_

 _Not the word William would use, but he won't say anything. He makes himself scarce at the back of the room as Mikey and Gerard start talking excitedly. It'll be a pain for William to take him away from this, from his family, but it's what has to be done._  

 

 

Travie knows officially that Gabe is freaking out when Disashi asks him, in all seriousness “you on drugs or what?”

Travie really doesn't know how to respond to that. It's not the first time he's been asked that, but it's the first time in a long time, and it hurts. It hurts especially because that's a really serious question, and the only reason anyone thinks that is because Gabe doesn't believe him about the existence of vampires.  

"You think I'm on drugs?" It comes out a lot harsher than intended, but he's genuinely upset about that. "That what it looks like to you? Huh?"

Sashi puts his hands up in a pacifying manner. "Gabe's concerned, man, I just figured he knows better than me?" 

"Gabe can go fuckin' chase himself." Travie is ten seconds away from storming right out of the stupid club. The dancers around them are looking over curiously, but they're suddenly otherwise occupied when Travie looks up at them. 

Disashi's not about to get involved with the drama those two are in, so he sighs and squeezes Travie's shoulder. "You right. I'm sorry. Hey, you stayin' for the show? Been a while since you showed your face around here, you might as well."

Travie's been avoiding them, at the risk of seeing William again. Usually he would be out of here quick as he could, but he wants to support his friends. And he doesn't want William getting suspicious. He just nods wordlessly, and Disashi pats his back.

"Well, I'm gonna head to the back. Don't sneak off or I'll be mad." 

Travie feels a little out of sorts once he's on his own. He's still mad, but it's fading. None of William's pals are lurking around, so that hopefully means he's gone too. He probably won't be in immediate danger if he goes wandering for a bit. Disashi won't be mad about it, and he has some time to kill before the start of the show.

He avoids the girls, and ends up in the back part. Curiosity gets the better of him when he gets to the part of the club that he knows leads to the shady business next door. Mikey's probably still there, cooped up in that room like Gabe says he's been. When Travie heads back out of curiosity, there's a suspicious lack of Gerard guarding the door, so Travie decided maybe he might go see how Mikey's doing. He's not sure what the compulsion is, he's mad at Gabe and the younger Way has never been on good terms with him because of stupid things.

As he walks down the hall, it's all Travie can think about. Every reason to leave or be cautious melts from his thoughts, and his head is full of fuzzy warmth. Mikey's pretty great. Maybe they've had their differences, but Mikey's pretty great.

Travie stumbles through the door like he's in a dream, and Mikey's in there. He looks sick as ever, but he's up and moving just fine. He doesn't seem bothered by his terminal illness. He gives Travie a sort of deer in the headlights look when he looks over, an expression that quickly turns to guilt as he looks at the floor. "Hey, Travis."

That snaps Travie back into his thoughts for a moment, and he feels a sharp pang of something ugly in his chest, something Mikey usually brings up in him. It goes away soon as Mikey smiles at him, and he's so happy he just has to smile back. Some part of his brain is screaming that something's wrong, but Travie feels like nothing in the world will ever be bad again.

"You shouldn't be here," Mikey says slowly. It looks like it pains him to say it. "But um... I'd really like it if you stuck around for a bit. I don't get a lot of visitors."

Sure. Travie still has time to kill. He goes to sit on Mikey's bed. "You feelin' any better? You don't look it."

Mikey laughs, shaking his head. "No, I'm fine. William fixed me up pretty good." 

Something feels wrong. He remembers himself when his thoughts drift to Gabe, staring hard at the floor. "Well, that's good. Whatever he did had to be magic, we all thought you were gonna... you know."

"Die? Yeah, me too." Mikey looks at him for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I'm excited to get my life back." 

"I bet." Travie stares hard at him. Part of his head is still telling him to trust Mikey, that everything's going to be fine. The other half is- well, he won't lie. He's jealous. Mikey's fine now, he's awake, he's fine. Gabe could probably get him back, if he tried. He could get him back real easy. 

"Hey, Travis, could you come here for a second?" There's something in Mikey's voice that Travie doesn't like. He sounds cold, even with that smile still plastered on his face.

Now might be the time to leave. "I'd rather not," Travie says as he gets up to do so.

Mikey's eyes narrow dangerously. "Come _here_."

Travie isn't sure why he's moving towards Mikey. He's trying to fight whatever force is pulling him in, but his will is fading. His body won't listen and his head is filling up with fog, like he could fall asleep right here. He feels Mikey's cold hands on his shoulders, and then everything gets blurry before fading to black.

For what feels like an eternity, everything is dark. Travie feels like he's awake, but he must not be, because he can't see anything. He's standing in the dark, all by himself, and when he tries to talk no sound comes. Sometimes he hears voices but they're far away and so distorted that he can't make out what they're saying. When he moves he has no way of telling if he's going anywhere.

He wakes up a few times, the dark falls away and he gets blurry flashes of colour, up until he wakes up with a start in Gabe's arms. Everything comes rushing back and Travie scrambles to get away from Gabe.

"Hey- hey! Are you okay?"

Travie shakes his head, touching Gabe's shoulder just to make sure he's real. His hands are shaking and it's embarrassing, but he's scared and nothing makes sense. Travie doesn't remember anything but the dark. He remembers going to see Mikey, remembers little bits of their conversation, but the rest is all static.

"Trav. You're fine, you're okay. We're at my place, okay?"

"You don't fuckin' get to talk to me." He might not be able to recall exactly what happened to him, but he remembers his conversation with Disashi in vivid detail, and he's still worked up about it. "What's wrong with you? What were you doing at the club?"

Gabe stares at him. Travie could punch him.

"I was going to see William," he says quietly. Not that he has to, Travie figured. "Are you gonna try and tell me he's a demon again?" 

"No, I'm gonna fuckin' leave because you're awful and I'm _not_ on drugs. Fuck you! That's fuckin' low, even for _you_." He's looking for his coat as Gabe follows him helplessly. 

"You're just so stuck on-"

"You can say whatever the fuck you want about me but I'm _not_ gonna listen to you accusing me of getting into that shit again." He doesn't really have anything else to add. Travie walks out of there without his coat, caught up in his own thoughts. 

 

 

_William closes the door behind himself once he's out in the hall, sighing. At least Mikey seems guilty about almost killing someone, even if it's mostly just the thought of potentially doing that to someone he cares about that's making him feel bad. He's still upset about attacking Travis, though. He doesn't know how difficult he's made things unintentionally._

_William isn't stupid. There's no way Travis will keep quiet about them now, he'd moved past disbelief straight into witch hunt territory in an instant. And Mikey was way more powerful than William had anticipated, if he'd managed to charm Travis in here without so much as making eye contact. He was getting hungry way too fast._

_They always moved when they added another vampire to their ranks, it was just something that had to be done. Sisky had forced them to migrate here in the first place, and it had been incredibly difficult to set themselves up, so moving would be a real pain. But nothing could be done about that._

_It had been such a nice night, too..._

_Carden is lurking around, of course, and he ducks his head as soon as he spots William. "I didn't know what- I didn't know where you were..."_

_"I know," William sighs. Admittedly, leaving one of his subordinates to take care of Mikey had been a careless move on William's part. He's not sure what had compelled him to stick around with Gabe when he suggested they leave the club for once, generally William isn't distracted by the humans around him. It's... an concerning effect. Another reason they should leave as soon as possible._

_"So?"_

_"So we're moving," William says, "the sooner the better. If this happens again it could be one of the men Iero actually cares for, and we're done for. They can't find out about this. Don't let anyone in here."_

_Carden looks a little concerned. "You haven't told them we're leaving?"_

_"_ _Do you think they’d let us if we did? Be reasonable.” William sighs. “Just… Get everything in order so we can run if we have to. I like it here as well, but that’s something we’ll have to get over if we want to keep this up.”_

 

 

A lot of things had happened last night, and Gabe feels awful.

He'd just gone by the _House of Wolves_ to thank William for somehow managing to bring Mikey back from the dead or whatever, he expected to be there quick. He had to go see Travie after and maybe do some form of damage control, maybe grovel at his feet for a while. 

He hadn't taken into account just how _fascinating_ William is. They sat there for hours in the back of the club, heads bent together as they watched everyone else dance. He and William talked about everything and anything, sharing stories about the world. Gabe even told him about his rum-running days, something that didn't seem so smart to be discussing with one of Iero's cohorts. William doesn't seem to harbour any particular love for Iero, though.

William is a little strange, but he's nice, and he's one of the most interesting people Gabe has ever met loitering around this club. He gets overexcited and laughs too loud, but it's nothing but endearing. Once he's done being shy and awkward, he becomes very animated and surprisingly funny.

Gabe is sort of stuck. 

Everything was going well until... Well, Gabe really isn't sure what happened. William paused what he was saying halfway through his sentence and left. He came back with Gabe's best friend out cold in his arms. He didn't have a lot of time to wonder how someone as tiny as William could be holding Travie up without any trouble, he was more concerned with figuring out what happened. 

Except nobody really knew what happened, just that it did, and William helps Gabe get Travie home, stuck around as Travie dozed and left before he woke up.

And everything had gone downhill from there.

After the fight, Gabe can't go after him. He's got a job that he's been neglecting for a good long while, even if going to work is the absolute last thing he wants to do. Staying in Trohman's good graces is hard, but Gabe has done well. At the rate he's going, he can keep going up in the ranks. Achieve greatness or whatever. 

Gabe still feels awful about it. He's sort of dazed by the time he meets up with Victoria to go, hastily put together and still stuck thinking about the fight. Is he in the wrong? Nothing Travie's been saying lately has been making sense, it's not a baseless assumption. Maybe he hadn't thought it all the way through, but he wasn't _wrong_. William certainly doesn't seem like the sort of person who'd kill anyone. If Travie has said Iero is a demon, Gabe would be more inclined to believe him.

"What are you doing," Victoria hisses soon as she sees him. "You look like you just rolled out of bed. Do you remember how to be professional?

Gabe just stands there as she brushes him off and straightens him out. It doesn't snap him back into focus like it usually would, his mind is elsewhere and it isn't about to come back anytime soon.

"Hey." She tugs his ear, bringing him back to Earth momentarily. "You sure you can do this? I'm having doubts, and if you ruin this for us it won't be a good situation." 

"Don't worry about me," he mumbles, linking arms with her and doing his best to chill out. He can't stop thinking, and it's hard not to let his thoughts drift in this kind of environment. Fancy dinner parties are always the most boring days on the job, especially when Travie isn't around to critique so and so's awful dress and what's his face's stupid laughter. Victoria doesn't have the same sense of humour, and she's looking to be professional today. Gabe keeps thinking back to stupid things Travie has done at these parties, and then he's stuck thinking about Travie and he feels guilty all over again.

Everything is just too damn boring to hold his interest for any amount of time. Some old money bigshot is talking to him about a meeting with the mayor, and Gabe is trying to keep his polite smile on and let Victoria do the talking. Everything else is already tuned out. He drifts off trying to piece together why Travie hates William so much if the whole demon thing isn't true. In some weird fantasy, maybe it makes sense. Mikey's magically better, maybe he's a vampire now? If Gabe believed in any of that stuff, he'd consider it maybe.

Victoria pulls him aside the third time he zones out when the stuffy old bigshot is trying to talk to him about stock or something. "You can't be here if you're going to do _this_ , okay, Gabe? You can't do this here. Go home and deal with whatever it is that's making you freak out before I'm forced to strangle you."

She knows him so well. Gabe feels bad leaving her on her own, but he's really no use here and Victoria isn't afraid to punch someone if she's got to. He sighs and gives her a kiss on the cheek. "Tell them I fell ill, quite suddenly. That's something I'd do, right?"

"I'm gonna say you ran off with someone else's girl, that's a lot more believable." Victoria shoves his shoulder. "Now go. Hurry."

"You complete me," Gabe tells her as he backs away, grinning at the look it earns him.

His plan is to go see Travie. He'll apologize, they'd make up, they'd cry a little, everything would go back to normal.

Except Travie's not home. Gabe's got a good idea where he might be, though.      

 

 

_The hunters finally found it in themselves to join forces, all because of William. He's almost flattered. Almost. It means they don't have a lot of time, because as excellent as he is at avoiding hunters, Mikey is new at this whole thing, and Brendon is bad in a fight._

_They need to leave, and they're going to. William hates to uproot everyone so suddenly, but it has to be done if they're going to survive. Everyone else is ready already. He hasn't told Brendon yet. Brendon's going to freak out about it, and they have a little time before they have to run. William gets Mikey ready and heads out onto the dance floor to do what he has to do._

_Travis is standing there, at the side by the door. He's got a wooden stake in one hand, and no idea how to use it. William can tell. He's no hunter, he's just a scared human, no fault of his own. They stand across from each other, and William tilts his head to the side._

_"Are you looking to kill me? Or are you here for an explanation?"_

_"I wanna believe you're not a demon," he says, which is surprising. He smells like the Hunter girl, William thought for sure he'd have to fight with Travis. Maybe he won't have to. "I want you to tell me why I shouldn't stab you."_

_William nods solemnly. "You're not daft, are you? I won't waste my time trying to lie to you. You must think we're barbaric, and I don't blame you for that."_

_"You killed people," Travis says, a fact. "Because you think they deserved it. Who're you to say what people deserve?"_

_"Don't make this more complicated than it needs to be," William says._

_"If she's dead, why don't you let her stay that way?"_

_William laughs, but that gets him deep, makes his chest ache. The feelings come rushing back every time he's reminded of it. "Ah, haven't you ever been in love? It makes you do ridiculous things."_

_He watches Travis hesitate for a moment. Poor thing. William plows on while he sorts his feelings out. "You can disagree with my methods all you like, we'll be out of your way soon enough._

_Travis genuinely seems to be off guard. "You're leaving?"_

_"In a short time the police will crash through those doors, and the Hunters will come for us. It's not safe for Mikey to be here anymore. You won't see us again."_

_"Gerard ain't gonna take that sitting down. And Hayley found you pretty easy."_

_William winces. Of course. The Hunter. “It’s a very good thing Mr. Way isn’t a vampire hunter like her, then. She has a right to suspect we’re of the bad sort, I don’t blame her for that. She’s only doing her job.”_

_Travie has nothing else to say. William slants his gaze to the door. He can hear people coming now. He'll have to hit the road soon. "I expect Mr. Saporta will be looking for you soon. I've got business to attend to before we go. Have yourself a good night, Mr. McCoy."_

_William leaves him standing where he is, and heads into the back to get Mikey. He doesn't look happy about this at all, not being able to say goodbye to his friends and family is hard, William understands that. Then again, his friends and family got him into this mess. This is something they'll have to deal with._

_“Sorry kiddo,” Carden mumbles as he comes from behind William, grabbing Mikey by the shoulders and practically hauling him out of the room as he protests. “No time for this. Come on.”_

_“I can’t-” He tries to fight, and William feels for him, he really does, but they really ought to get out of here. The raid in the other room has begun, and patrons are scrambling to get out in a blind panic as the pigs try to wrangle them. Nobody notices them slipping out, inching along the stage._

_It's going well until Mikey starts screaming for someone he spotted in the crowd._

_Oh god._

_Gabriel Saporta looks over, alarmed, and this just won’t do. William breaks off from Carden, making a beeline for Gabe. They can't talk in here without putting themselves in danger, so William pulls Gabe along by the arm, away from the threat._

_"You wanna explain what’s happening?”_

_“A raid, evidently,” William says, but now isn’t the time for jokes. Gabe's not laughing. "We’re leaving.”_

_Gabe stops walking, forcing William to do the same. “You’re leaving?”_

_“We have to. It isn’t safe for Michael to be around people he loves with the way he is now."_

_Gabe's eyes narrow immediately. Oh goodness, here they go. "How is he exactly?”_

_William isn’t ever sure how to get this part of the conversation done. He smiles sort of awkwardly, showing off his teeth, hopefully Travis has spent enough time trying to convince Gabe that he doesn’t actually have to disappear suddenly or like, punch through the wall or something._

_It must work. Gabe looks ]like he's about to fall over. His voice is faint when he tries to talk again. "Oh?”_

_“I’m sorry.” William doesn’t really know what he’s sorry for, just that he is._

_“So You're... And Mikey actually…”_

_“It was the only way he was going to live.” William cringes at his own wording, because Mikey is, in no way, actually alive. “I’ll take care of him, I promise.”_

_“Are you sure you can’t-” There's a crash in the next room over._

_“I’m sorry, Gabriel. I wish things didn’t have to be this way.” William looks behind him, shooting Gabe a sort of sad smile as he gets out quick as he can._

 

 

It’s a surreal experience sitting down at a table with Frank-Fuckin’-Iero in the middle of the wreck of his club. Usually Gabe would be laughing about the fall of a giant but Iero is a lot more human in person, and he just lost one of his best friends too. Iero's a lot shorter than Gabe remembers him to be, or maybe he just seems a lot smaller in his grief, his flop of hair falling into his eyes as he hangs his head.

They're seated at a single table in mismatched chairs with a single bottle of rum in the middle of them all. Their glasses are all different, but none of them care. The lights are low and the hall is empty, and it's the saddest thing Gabe think's he's seen in his entire life. Travie's still on his guard for some reason, keeps looking over warily at Iero like he might try something, but he doesn't seem too interested in anything that's not rum.

"We have to find them," Iero says after a long silence. Gabe feels sort of bad for him. He's sure that at this point in time, Iero cares more about Mikey than either of them. Even if he won't say it out loud.

"We ain't gonna find them," Travie says, swirling the liquid in his glass. "They ain't gonna _let_ us find them. Vampires are tricky like that."

Vampires. The word still twists Gabe's stomach in a knot, even through the warm haze of the alcohol. "Can you not use that word? I'm still coming to terms with it."

"The undead, then," Travie says, giving Gabe a dull look. That's really not much better.

"I mean, I couldn't just let him die," Iero says, continuing on some train of thought Gabe and Travie weren't following. He seems pretty shaken up about this whole thing, and maybe it _is_ all his fault. "It wasn't a bad thing to do, right?"

Gabe just pats him on the back reassuringly, because he's sure they're all far gone enough that it;s an acceptable thing to do. The world probably won't explode if they pretend to like each other for an hour.

"Thought you knew better than to trust pretty boys, Iero," Travie says, knocking his drink back. It earns him an icy glare from Iero.

"Well, you knew all along, McCoy. You could have stopped it."  

That shuts him up. Travie looks down at the table sheepishly. Gabe's foggy mind is trying to come up with a plan. If they can't find vampires, maybe they can find someone who can. Hayley had been able to track them, but there was no way they'd be able to recruit her for help. She was a good guy, and they were very quickly drifting into what could very well be considered bad guy territory.

So Hayley was out of the mix, but there had to be other vampire hunters out in the world, right?

"Iero." Gabe sits up straighter. "Iero, you have all sorts of connections, right?"

He must've come to the same conclusion in that time because he just sighs, exasperated. "I don't know any vampire hunters."

"Well get on it then," Travie mumbles, pawing around the back of his chair for his coat. "Fuck, man. I gotta go home. You comin', Gabriel?"

"Iero, we'll be in touch," Gabe says as he struggles to his feet, nearly knocking his chair over in the process. He has to lean on Travie to keep from stumbling. "Okay? Cool?"

"We fuckin' won't be in touch," Iero mumbles, leaning his head on the table. "You wanna get yourself shot? That's the way to do it. Talk to Gerard if you have anything to say to me."

"Swell. I suppose we'll see you at some point. At the risk of being shot." Gabe salutes him as Travie drags him along, out of the club. The cold air shocks him back into his senses somewhat. His head's still a jumbled mess, but he's sure nobody would blame him. William is a vampire. Travie was right, William is a vampire. And Mikey is too. William and Mikey are vampires. And Mikey tried to kill Travie. And now Mikey's gone.

He might never see Mikey again.

"We're gonna find him, right?" Gabe looks at Travie, concerned now. "We'll get him home?"

Travie won't look at him. He's determined to get home without incident. "I dunno. Maybe? Do you want him around if he's a vampire?"

Gabe huffs a laugh and one of his feet snags the sidewalk. He holds tighter to Travie's arm. "'Course I do. We're friends. You jealous of him?"

Travie's eyes narrow, just a little bit. "Why would I be jealous of a vampire."

Gabe isn't entirely sure why he does this. Maybe he'd like it if Travie actually _said_ something, or admitted it out loud. Something like that. "Cause I really really like him. I really like Mikey, Travis."

“You in love with him?”

“I am if it makes you jealous.”

Travie's starting to get mad. Or something else, Gabe can't tell exactly what it is but his face scrunches up and he speeds up. He still won't look at Gabe. “Don’t talk like that. We ain’t doing this now.”

Gabe is pretty intent on _doing this now_ , kissing Travie rather enthusiastically the moment they get in the door. Travie isn't expecting it, and it's rather jarring. Not entirely enjoyable, Gabe tastes like alcohol and he's being too rough, but Travie doesn't shove him off or anything. Gabe takes this as an okay to keep going, so they're fumbling around in the dark, making too much noise. Now Travie's paranoid about waking Mrs. Abel up.

“Gabe- hey-” Travie pushes him back by his shoulders, gently, but Gabe just pulls him back in. This is going downhill fast, and Travie's will is evaporating. He sighs and tugs Gabe along to his room so at least they aren’t dealing with this out in the hall.

It's not much better, once he gets the door closed. Travie is crowded against it, and Gabe is kissing him. Some part of his brain is telling him that this isn't good, that Gabe's out of it and it's no good, not like this. He's upset, that's why this is happening. This can't be happening.

Travie grabs Gabe's wrists when his hands start wandering. " _Non_. You're going to sleep. We can talk about this in the morning when you’re not fuckin' blotto, got it?”

Gabe looks like he's been dealt some great injustice, but he doesn't fight it when Travie pushes him back until he's sitting on the bed. He accepts defeat. “I’m gonna be fucked up in the morning,” he grumbles. “Mikey’s dead and I’m not gonna see him again.”

"Sleep." Travie sits himself down at his desk. He may as well get some writing done, if this is happening. He turns the lamp down a little, so Gabe doesn't complain.

Gabe doesn't listen. When has he ever? He just lies there, staring at the ceiling. After a little while, he lolls his head to the side to look at Travie. "I really liked William."

Travie pauses his writing for a moment before frowning and continuing. “Too bad he turned out to be evil, then.”

“He wasn’t evil,” Gabe says, propping himself up on his elbows when Travie doesn’t respond. “He’s not evil, Travie. I don’t think that.”

He wants to say something along the lines of _killing people to bring back your dead wife isn’t a saintly act to begin with_ , but he didn’t. He keeps his trap shut, because Gabe is going to ask seven billion questions and that's not anything he wants to get into now, at this hour.

"Travis. Trav. He's not. Really. And Mikey's not either. We gotta find them."

Travie puts his pen down, taking a deep breath. “I dunno what you’re tryin' to do here, bait me or what, but you know I don’t like that idea.”

“And I know you love me enough to come with me if I go,” Gabe says slowly, like he's unsure.

That is not a word Travie wants to hear right now. He looks back, annoyed. “Nobody said anything about love.”

Gabe just stares at him until Travie can't look at him anymore, throwing himself back into his writing. "I don't know what I'm going to do if I have to go alone."

Travie isn't even going to address all the reasons he can't go. "Go to sleep, Gabriel."

“I’m going,” Gabe says quietly. “You don’t have to.”

The ensuing silence is almost painful.

 

 

Joseph Trohman is a strange man. He's young- almost _too_ young, deceptively friendly looking in a way his father before him wasn't. Nobody's quite sure what his advantage is, but he's made it this far, and he's powerful enough to be feared.

He is, at the moment, waiting outside the only speakeasy he frequents with an old associate of his, one from Chicago. Things aren't going so well, he's been told. Patrick came back to confirm what Joe already knew. He's been onto Beckett since the start, he just hasn't had the means to take him down. Things are different in New York, the Hunters are scattered, and there's no order. They're practically useless.

"You came at a bad time, old boy," Joe says to Patrick, as they stand by the road, watching the cars go by. "He's about to skip town."

Patrick looks at him, then back to the street, pulling his cap on properly. "How can you know that?"

"I make it my business to know," Joe says, and he puts his hands in his pockets and starts to walk. Patrick stumbles after him, doing his best to keep up. "I'm about to go meet with one of my best men. He's going to tell me that he's leaving."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Everything's jake, pattycakes." Joe grins at Patrick's reaction to the horrible nickname. He looks indignant, starts sputtering half-formed protests before he realizes Joe's only trying to get a rise. "He's friends with Michael Way, who disappeared quite recently. After being in the care of one William Beckett for a month, I should add."

"William turned him?" Patrick's eyes go wide.

Joe pats him on the back. "Don't concern yourself with those matters, old boy. Just tell everyone to come up here for a visit! It'll be grand. We can track them down together."

Patrick doesn't respond as they get to the docks, and Joe puts on his best grin. It's not often that Joe shows his face to anybody, but he genuinely likes Gabe. Or, liked.

"Sir." Gabe smiles a little bit, and Joe grins back. He's going to have to try really hard to keep the act up when the lies start.  

“Gabriel! How lovely to see you. This is one of my associates- no need for formality, you can call him Patrick. He's an old friend of mine, from the old country.”

Patrick looks annoyed with that introduction, fiddling with his glasses. He manages a polite smile for Gabe, though. He's a better actor than Joe.

"Formalities aside, I suppose we've got business to discuss?"

"Yes, sir. Travis and I are going away."

Ah, here they go. Joe lays it on thick, looking confused, as if he hasn't heard this right. "You're going away?"

Gabe shuffles his feet, looking a little sheepish. He's generally a better liar than this, Joe wants to berate him for it. "A vacation of sorts?"

"Well knowing you, Mr. Saporta, if you wanted to go somewhere you'd go. Is there a particular reason you're asking my permission?"

Gabe is dumbfounded. Patrick is too, looking between them, but he doesn't understand the dynamic between them. Joe really does like Gabe, and trusts him enough not to go beating his gums about business the first chance he gets. And Joe knows where his family lives. Hopefully it won't come to _that_ , Joe can never stand it when it comes to that. Killing undead monsters is one thing, something he's good at, killing families? He's never had to. He doesn't want an excuse to start.

"Right," Gabe says after a moment of silence. He still doesn't look like he believes what he's hearing. "Thank you."

This isn't usually how business works, and maybe Joe will get people yammering about what a bad idea it is, but that's just fine with him. "I do enjoy our talks, Mr. Saporta." Joe punches Gabe's arm in an affectionate gesture. If he does it a little too hard, nobody has to know. "I look forward to your return. Tell your father I say hi!"

The threat is hardly concealed. Joe waves as Gabe gives him an uneasy smile, walking away. Joe drops his smile as soon as Gabe is out of sight.

"Go back and tell Pete to mobilize," he says, and Patrick nods. It really is unfortunate that things had to be this way, but there's nothing Joe can do about it.

Tragic, really.

 

 

When Gabe gets back to the _House of Wolves_ , Travie is standing by the stage with his suitcase, looking more than a little uncertain. His mind is just a jumble of different thoughts and worries right now, and he feels a little sick. His stomach's all tied up in knots because this is a _big deal_. He's about to throw everything he's worked for away, leave all his friends behind. He might not come back. He might not make it out _alive_. They have Iero's protection until they're out of the city, but after that they're on their own, at the mercy of other gangs and vampires that aren't William. 

This is _such_ a bad idea.

He takes a deep breath and tries to look braver than he feels. Iero is to his right, with Gerard, a kid, and a very tall man he hadn't been introduced to when he came in here. He watches Gabe come across the dance floor nervously, trying not to think too much about whats going to happen. He doesn't want to change his mind. They've come this far, Travie doesn't want to back out now.

"You gotta hurry, there's not a lot of time," Iero says as soon as Gabe is with them. "Obviously I'm sending Gerard with you, because none of you can be trusted. The kid is coming too-"

"Spencer," the kid in question snaps. Travie figures he's a good addition, if he's got the guts to raise his voice at Frank fuckin' Iero. "My name is _Spencer_."

" _Spencer_. Christ, does your mother know you're out?" Iero is understandably irritated, shooting the kid a look before turning to the other man Travie doesn't know. "And here's your vampire hunter-"

"I don't- um. I don't hunt them," the tall guy says, and he certainly doesn't look like someone who would.

“If everyone could stop fucking interrupting for ten seconds.” Iero waits a moment to make sure they're all well and truly silent. Nobody has anything to say, they don't want to set him off. “This here's Mr. Toro, he knows a lot about vampires ‘cause he's a fuckin' lunatic. Better?”

“Don’t lose your head,” Gerard says. “We're going.”

“Fuck yeah you are. Hurry back, would you?” The way Iero's looking at Gerard is probably the most emotion they'll ever see him express. Travie looks away when Gerard hugs him because that's just _too personal._ He's still trying not to freak out himself, so he starts heading out before he can change his mind and run backstage.

Gabe grabs his arm before he can get very far down the street, pulling him aside into a more private space. The others won't be able to see them from here, but other people might. It's not reassuring. "Hey- hey. You gonna make it?"

"Lay _off_ ," Travie snaps, okay, he's maybe not in control of his emotions right now. "You're uprooting me to go chasin' after some demon you don't know and an old flame you got no chance with anymore, I'm gonna have to endure so much fuckin' _embarrassment_ goin' anywhere with you people, in case you forgot that I'm-"

"But you're coming," Gabe says with a grin, like he didn't catch anything else. Like the rest of those points are completely void. Travie is exasperated, and he's not feeling any better. "Travelling's good for your soul or whatever-"

Travie nearly snaps, right there. " _Ki te'm anrepo'm_ Gabriel Saporta, I swear if you _start_ with me-"

"Don't start with the mumbo jumbo now, buddy- hey. Breathe." Gabe puts his hands on Travie's shoulders, squeezing reassuringly.

Travie still wants to kill him, but his anger is fading back into muffled panic. He looks away, mumbling incoherently, and Gabe hugs him because he knows sometimes that helps, even if Travie's too stubborn to actually say anything.

"I owe you. I owe you the moon, plus interest at this point," Gabe mumbles, his mouth pressed against Travie's neck. It's not smart to be doing this out here, maybe Gabe forgot about the part where they could get _arrested_ for it. "Okay?"

"Okay," Travie says quietly, and Gabe pulls back, patting his cheek before giving him a quick kiss.

Travie grumbles and shoves past him as Gabe laughs, he's so obnoxious, there's no way Travie's going to survive this trip. The others are gathered around the exit of _the House of Wolves_ , suitcases in hand.

"You ready to go?" It's not really a question. Gerard looks at Gabe, who looks at Travie and grins.

"Let's go," he says.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This is finally done. If you originally read it when I first posted it, it's probably a lot different now.   
> 2\. It may be a little ahistorical? I did my best to be correct but you know, it's a story about a vampire who kills people, I think we're allowed to bend the rules a little bit here.   
> 3\. Don't assume gender based off voices.... I don't endorse that.  
> 4\. Anything that's said (by Travie) that looks sort of like French is Haitian Creole. Was it necessary? No. Was it fun to learn about? Very. It ties in with a lot of interesting history, and also Louisiana Voodoo.


End file.
